Sins of the Past
by Mrs.Firefly
Summary: Hermione and Minerva are expecting their first child but something happens that has a devastating effect on their relationship. Will Hermione have to cope with being a single mother? Will the couple learn to work through the sins of the past to save their future? This is a journey of love, trust, pain and healing. EWE. Femslash. M for possible future content
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Nope, I'm absolutely NOT abandoning Save me from me but this story came to my mind while in bed yesterday night and it had been begging to be written.  
**

* * *

 **Sins of the Past**

Chapter 1

Sweat formed on Hermione's forehead in large beads that immediately started their way downward, only to be caught up in the brunette witch's eyebrows, preventing the salty liquid from getting into her eyes. Although it is doubtful that she would have noticed the stinging at that moment as the ever intensifying waves of excruciating pain in her lower abdomen had kept her rather preoccupied in the last ten hours.

So far, Hermione's pregnancy had been what muggles would call textbook. It was as disciplined and well-timed as if every phase was governed by an invisible clock-work mechanism. The morning sicknesses came and went as if they were instructed to do so and the baby started moving in the exact week as it was supposed to. Unsurprisingly, Hermione went into labour on the exact date the Mediwitch predicted, although she had read that magical prediction was much more accurate than muggle methods. So the female third of the Golden trio was vaguely disappointed when her child didn't just pop out like the good little girl she had been all along.

"Don't forget to breathe, love." Minerva cooed, holding the hand of her lover for support. She'd been absolutely adamant that she wanted to be there when Hermione gave birth and assist as best as she could. She had, after all, been 'present' during the making of the child, it was only fair that she partake not only in the pleasurable aspects of conceiving but the painful as well.

Hermione tried to control her laborious breathing with the method they learned in lamaze classes. Taking a breath as deep as possible she counted to five, then started pushing the air out through her nose while attempting to count to five again. She repeated the process several times but it was quickly proving inefficient. "Dammit, this was so much easier in class!" She muttered through gritted teeth.

Minerva suppressed a smile, fearful that her beautiful but distressed partner would hex her wandlessly if she dared to show anything but utter focus and support. But inside her head, she had to admit that Hermione's outburst had been adorable. While the younger witch was certainly adept at applying theory to practice and had proven herself to perform well under duress, in-class performance would always be her main element.

"Try the other one?" Minerva suggested, squeezing the hand that was already clamped tight around hers like a vice. The animagus marvelled at the fact that Hermione had not yet broken her hand despite her smaller size.

Hermione, desperate to concentrate on anything but the pain, obediently changed her breathing to the two short, one long breath technique both in and out. This one was more difficult because she had to pay attention not only to the way she filled her lungs but also to exhaling the last one through her mouth. "GAH!" She screamed as a particularly nasty cramp shot pain right across her spine.

"You're doing well, Hermione. You've dilated another inch. It shouldn't be too long now." The friendly Mediwitch said from between Hermione's legs.

Susan Strout, Miriam Strout's elder sister by a decade, had been assigned to attend to Hermione's pregnancy from the moment she checked in for a pregnancy test. The two mothers-to-be couldn't have wished for a better healer to accompany them throughout this exciting journey. She was not only limitlessly knowledgeable about childbirth but was also very discreet.

After the public reception of their relationship five years ago, it caused quite a scandal that the brains of the Golden Trio chose the recently appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts over the dashing Weasley boy, the couple was worried that if word got out that Hermione was pregnant they would have endless stalkers on their heels. Healer Strout had been absolutely instrumental in preventing just that. After Hermione started showing, at which point Hermione was forbidden from using body altering magic, she offered to take their regular check ups to Hogwarts via the floo network so Hermione would not be forced to make the very public trips to St. Mungo's.

"GOD, I can't take much more of this!" Hermione ground out. _'Hell, its being under the bloody cruciatus curse all over again.'_ The brunette witch thought. It'd been almost a year since the magical scar had been removed from her forearm but the wicked bitch still haunted her memories sometimes.

"Can't you just take her out?" The young witch demanded.

The Mediwitch gave her an apologetic look as she ducked back under the hem of the gown to check on Hermione again. It had been incredibly awkward for the young soon-to-be mother to have someone other than Minerva poke around between her legs, but Healer Strout had been so professional about it that she soon got over it. It was especially a breath of fresh air that the healer did not seem to fawn all over her because of her role in defeating Voldemort. _'Bloody hell, I'd rather face him again than struggle through another hour of this torture!'_

"You'll be done soon, love. And then it'll be just you, me and sweet little Rosie..." Minerva whispered to Hermione, aiming to distract the distressed woman by forcing her to concentrate on her words. They'd had a lot of fun picking out names that would go with their names. That is, until Hermione was informed that according to Wizarding law a child could only take one family name. Hermione wanted their child to be called McGonagall-Granger but to her fury this was not going to happen. At that point Minerva swore that the brilliant young woman had half the mind to run for the position of Minister for Magic for the sole reason of having that law revoked.

* * *

After what seemed to Hermione like so many hours, while in reality it was but one, the Mediwitch announced that she could start pushing. If Hermione thought that she'd been in pain before, she was in for a nasty turn of events. She'd been instructed to take a deep breath at the onset of every contraction and push as hard as she could while Healer Strout counted to ten.

The pain came back tenfold with the onset of the first cramp and it had Hermione panting desperately. Her face was scrunched up in agony as the pain engulfed her entire body and she'd unintentionally translated some of that pain to her lover whose hand she was gripping as if she intended to ground the bones into dust. Minerva was sure that her hand was going to be mightily bruised by the end of her daughter's birth.

The brunette witch forced her eyes open when the Healer told her to focus on something and start her controlled breathing routine again. She turned her head to the side to look into the unbelievably green eyes of her partner, seeking comfort. Emerald orbs bore into her chocolate eyes intensely, offering all the support she could.

Mustering whatever strength Hermione could, she started pushing. The first pangs of pain were such a shock to her that she screamed out, pushing forgotten, the sound of her agony bursting forth from her lips explosively.

"It's alright, Hermione. Focus on your breathing. The more you push the sooner the pain will stop." Healer Strout offered encouragement to the young woman. She knew that first births were a hell ride of an experience and young mothers needed all the verbal support they could get.

"GOD, make it stop!" Hermione screamed as another contraction engulfed her in pain. Healer Strout had taken the time to mentally prepare Hermione, telling her what to expect, that it was okay to miss pushing during a few contractions if she felt exhausted but no amount of lectures could prepare her for this pain. _'I wish I could have asked mum what if felt like when she was having me...'_

The young witch didn't know where the sudden thought had come from but knew that now was not the time to dwell on missed chances. Although she recently discovered her parents' location she'd not yet had the courage to restore their memories, thus, Hermione's mother had not had the opportunity to accompany her daughter during her first pregnancy. _'Bloody hell, first and damn last pregnancy if I can help it!'_ Hermione thought viciously as another cramp constricted her lower abdomen. _'It's like someone's got their hand up there but SO not in a good way...'_

* * *

After several more pushes Healer Strout announced that she could see the head and instructed Hermione to push some more. The young witch, invigorated by the news that she was making progress, started pushing with renewed determination.

"Stop pushing, Hermione! She's crowning. You don't want to damage her head." The Mediwitch ordered.

Hermione's eyes bulged out of her head and she panted, mouth wide open, almost to the point of hyperventilation, in an effort to stop her body from pushing against the massive THING _– 'my baby girl!' –_ that was wedged between the walls of her vagina. Seeking out Minerva's eyes again, she silently begged for reassurance.

The older witch was in some discomfort of her own. She was fairly certain that the bones in her wrist were fractured but she would not have said a word even if her very life depended on it. It was all she could do at that moment to support Hermione. The poor woman had a death grip on both her hand and the railing of the hospital bed on the other side. After all, what was a broken wrist compared to pushing something THAT big out of her body?

"You're doing great, love! You're almost there." She cooed, not really knowing what else to say.

* * *

Not more than another twenty minutes passed before Healer Strout announced that Rose McGonagall was born. The wailing bundle of the happy parents' joy was magically cleaned and wrapped in a baby blanket instantaneously before the Mediwitch deposited her in her still panting mother's arms. Both witches were so overjoyed and exhausted from the experience that they failed to notice the carefully constructed mask of a blank expression on the Healer's face.

Hermione, giddy and high on love hormones, cuddled the newborn to her chest. She looked into the watery eyes of her partner and as their gazes connected the tears started rolling down their cheeks almost simultaneously. "Our child!" Hermione whispered, her gaze never leaving that of her lover's.

Minerva felt that her heart would burst from all the love and pride coursing through her so she leaned in to capture Hermione's lips in a searing kiss. Knowing that Hermione was far from being done for the day she broke the kiss after a few seconds, confident that they would have plenty of time for love under more appropriate circumstances.

"She's perfect!" Minerva whispered back, gently caressing little Rosie's head with her finger tips, slightly brushing back the blanket from her forehead.

Whatever Minerva was about to do was forgotten as she froze in utter shock. Her mind gave a blank, she could neither think nor move. All she could do was stare at the small bundle in Hermione's arms in bewilderment. Chancing a glance at her partner she saw that the brunette witch's face showed shock, confusion and finally fear.

The meeting of their eyes jolted Minerva from her stupor. Upon seeing fear in Hermione's eyes the Scottish witch's temper roared to life and jumping to the obvious conclusion her body flushed in anger. Not trusting herself to not say or do something that she might regret later she wretched her hand out of Hermione's renewed death grip and apparated away without a word.

A stunned silence fell on the hospital room that was only broken by the squirming of the minutes old infant in Hermione Granger's arms, her shock of fiery red ginger hair standing out in all direction.

* * *

To Be Continued

 **Funfact: I'm 28, I don't have a child of my own so I just used wikipedia for facts, my imagination for the emotional parts and even called my mum to ask her to describe giving birth to my brother (her first).**

 **PLEASE REVIEW and let me know how I did with this :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Second instalment. The third is already formulating in my mind but I'll probably only have time to write it down on Sunday so please bear with me. Meanwhile, I'd love to read your guesses as to what's going on.  
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* * *

Sins of the Past

Chapter 2

* * *

 _Two days later_

Hermione loved magic. Had she given birth in a muggle hospital she would have had to suffer from the various pains for weeks before she could function properly. With potions and capable Healers surrounding her she was discharged as completely healed in two days. _'Now I just need to get my life in order.'_

Although Hermione was completely healed in the physical sense her heart and soul were entirely beyond the abilities of any healer at the renowned magical hospital. Granted, Healer Strout did her best, basically acting as Hermione's therapist in those two days, but her speciality was helping new life enter the world, not mending broken hearts. And the poor brunette's heart was utterly broken, for Minerva had vanished without a single word and had not bothered to check on her partner and infant daughter for two days. She didn't even bother to reply to owls.

 _'Stupid, untrusting, pig-headed idiot.'_ Hermione grumbled as she thought of the woman who was currently abusing the heart she'd stolen from the younger witch five years ago. Willing herself to focus on what needed to be done rather than on dwell on her pain, Hermione made a mental list of errands to run before attempting to contact her... she was not even sure what Minerva was to her at this moment. Her lover? Her ex? _'Well she's certainly the mother of my child and she'll have to deal with that one way or another.'_

* * *

 _Meanwhile in the Headmistress' office_

"Minerva...are you sure that was the right thing to do?" Albus' portrait asked. After the real man died almost a decade ago his portrait became Minerva's single solace. That is, until Hermione found the guts to pursue her some five years ago. _'Only to have her betray me like that...'_

"Albus, you know me far too well to have meant that question." Minerva reproached what remained of her friend, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "I left because I did not trust myself not to start yelling and throwing accusations at her on the spot. That was neither the place nor the time."

The late Headmaster hummed in acknowledgement, a sad but thoughtful look creeping into his eyes. Even though he did not command the emotional range he used to, there was enough of him preserved by the magic of the portrait to feel not only sorry for his dear friend but also recognize when said woman was deceiving herself.

"And in the last two days, Tabby?" He finally asked. He'd seen the owls bearing letters from Hermione. They were in an unopened pile on her desk.

The ebony haired Scottish witch threw him a dirty look. She did not particularly enjoy being reprimanded. Turning away from his portrait, she marched straight to one of the cabinets and retrieved a very special bottle of firewhiskey. She rarely drank anything else and even less rarely indulged in this particular liquid. The dozen or so bottles that remained were part of her family inheritance so she kept them for special occasions. On this occasion the speciality was the fact that her life seemed to be in ruins.

"And if Hermione were to visit with the child, Minerva? Don't you suppose seeing your daughter for the first time since her birth ought to happen while you were sober?" Albus asked.

The icy cold stare Minerva shot at the portrait would have been enough to petrify any living being but keen blue eyes returned the stare unblinking. Eventually it was Minerva who looked away, her shoulders hunching in the process. Never in her life, had she felt this vulnerable and never in her life had she cowered in front of anyone.

"How can you say that that child is mine Albus? I've already told you..." Minerva trailed off, a great sob froze whatever she wanted to say on her lips.

* * *

 _Hermione's flat..._

Hermione stood in the middle of her living room, ticking things off her mental checklist. She'd been to the Ministry to enquire if they kept a record of the family of muggleborn witches and wizards. The young clerk at the Muggle Affairs Department had looked at her with something akin to terror. The poor lad had of course heard of the muggleborn war heroine, the brains of the Golden Trio, and was utterly dumbstruck by the request. He was also somewhat shocked to be in the presence of such unparalleled beauty which had a seriously negative effect on his ability to focus on what she was saying rather than on her chest. Eventually Hermione grew too frustrated with him and as she did not think he deserved to be hexed for being a hormonal teenager she simply stomped off, and unceremoniously barged into Arthur Weasley's office.

* * *

" _Hermione, what a pleasure to see you." Arthur smiled initially, not immediately recognizing the young woman's distress. In fairness, Hermione did attempt to hide it with charms and glamours._

" _And you, Arthur. I'm afraid I'm on a tight schedule so I'll have to make this visit brief. Do you suppose there might be records somewhere of muggleborn witches' and wizards' families?" Hermione asked politely._

 _Arthur's eyes grew almost imperceptibly and he rubbed his palm across his balding scalp, a nervous habit Hermione noticed he'd developed during the war._

" _Well... technically yes. It's still under debate in the Wizengamot whether we should destroy or classify the records but as a matter of fact we do. Why?" He asked. He gave her one of his looks, his eyes narrowing comically while he turned his head slightly to the side. He was clearly suspicious of Hermione's motives._

 _Hermione quickly had to think up a reason why she'd be interested, seeing how she did not yet want to reveal her current predicament._

" _Well... you know what muggle doctors are." She stated. She remembered Molly's screech quite well when she found out that Arthur had been dabbling with muggle remedies after his snake incident. "I was wondering if we had records of what the muggle families did for a living. I'm hoping to find some muggle doctors who already have a connection with the wizarding world." So far she had nothing but the truth._

 _She could see that the proverbial wheels were turning in his head but he was kind enough to not push it and eventually allowed her access to the records._

* * *

Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. _'Time to see Minerva.'_

She hesitated for a moment when she turned to her daughter, wondering if she was a lousy mother for leaving her two day old child with someone else. The brunette witch actually considered taking Rose with her but then thought better of it. She knew Minerva like the back of her hand. Pissed as she was she was likely to throw a temper tantrum if she couldn't get her to see reason. Having yet to recover her mother's memories she went to the only person she'd trust her daughter with apart from herself and Minerva – assuming that the woman deigned to retract her head from her rear end. That one person was Molly Weasley.

* * *

 _With perfect timing Hermione arrived via the floo network just as she had promised to Molly in her letter. Dreading this meeting she gingerly stepped out of the fireplace, her eyes scanning the room for anyone. When she realized that Molly had been true to her word and arranged for everyone but herself to be present she sighed in relief. This conversation would be awkward enough with just Molly present, she did not need any of the Weasley men to be there._

" _Hermione, dear! Just in time!" Molly greeted her warmly from the kitchen. "Oh my goodness, gracious, you've brought Rose to visit?" Molly squealed happily, rushing to her favourite almost daughter. Even though she knew that the girl had loving parents of her own, albeit currently in hiding, she took it on herself to be the young witch's magical parent for lack of a better word._

 _Unsurprisingly Molly had quite a similar reaction as they had when they first saw Rose. 'God, poor Rosie, she's definitely making an unforgettable first impression.' Hermione mused as she waited for Molly to process what she was seeing._

 _The older woman's eyes kept darting back and forth between Hermione's eyes and her daughter's unmistakeable features. "Heavens above. Hermione... please tell me that someone in your family was a redhead."_

" _I wish that were the case, Molly." Hermione replied sadly. Not wanting to allow the Weasley Matriarch to jump to the same conclusions Minerva had she hurried on. "But contrary to what I expect you think, I most certainly did NOT cheat on Minerva." She stated firmly, giving the older woman a good solid look._

" _Hermione..." Molly looked at the younger woman reproachfully. "I don't mean to cause you any heart ache, and I did give you the benefit of the doubt, but I know a Weasley when I see one. That red hair, that nose, that's so characteristically Weasley that it's ridiculous to deny. Especially to me. God knows I've given birth to enough of them." She smiled, vaguely trying to reassure the brunette witch. "Does Ron know?" She asked._

 _Hermione felt her body heat up in anger in a matter of seconds. "God damn it, Molly! Why does NO ONE believe me when I say that I did not cheat on my girlfriend?" The words exploded from her so unexpectedly that Molly actually took a step back."I have absolutely no idea why Rose has red hair." She said in exasperation._

 _Molly, still in somewhat of a shock, regarded Hermione wearily. Normally she would have fought back if anyone talked to her like that but the young witch was so obviously close to a breaking point that she chose to curb her temper._

 _The younger witch sighed in frustration, brushing a hand through her hair while she balanced her daughter on her other arm. "Look, Molly. I'm... I'm sorry I snapped. It wasn't exactly called for. But you have to believe me when I tell you that I am not having a secret romance with any of your sons, especially Ron. He's a dear friend but that is all. I love Minerva. But the blasted stubborn witch left me in the delivery room the moment she saw Rose." Hermione revealed, tears immediately welling up in her eyes. "We haven't spoken in two days, Molly. I need to go and speak to her but I'm afraid to take Rose with me. Her temper is quite unpredictable at times."_

 _She could literally see Molly's heart breaking for her upon her admission. She moved closer and gently wrapped an arm around her shoulder, mindful not to squeeze the infant between them. "Oh dearest, I am so sorry." She said in a comforting tone, clearly accepting Hermione's claims as truth. "You want to ask me to mind little Rosie while you try to talk some sense into your pig-headed witch?" She asked kindly._

" _Would you?" Hermione asked tearfully._

" _Oh Hermione, of course! Even though she is not my grandchild by blood, you are like a daughter to me so any child of yours will always be welcome." The older woman said._

* * *

Having done all that was necessary she grabbed the bag full of Rose's things, and gently picked up her child from her bed. _'Our child. Minerva's and mine.'_ She mentally corrected herself. "Oh Rosie, I'm so sorry your first few days are so stressful. But I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll get your stubborn other mother to see reason, don't you fear." She said, a smile appearing on her lips despite of her melancholy when her daughter opened her eyes to the sound of her voice.

Hermione marvelled at the tiny human in her hands. She was such a well-behaved little girl even though she was sure she could feel all the stress around her. She had barely wailed since that first explosion of a sound upon being thrust into the world. The brunette witch was fairly sure that she was just imagining it but she thought her daughter must be sensing her needs. _'Not that it shouldn't be the other way around...'_

Gently cuddling the small body to her she pressed a soft kiss on Rose's cheek before she wrapped her securely in a blanket and stepped to the fireplace.

* * *

 _At Hogwarts..._

The floo network activated and Minerva's fireplace roared to life, effectively catching the animagus' complete attention. There were only a small handful of people who were allowed to access her office in such a fashion and she only expected, and half-dreaded, the arrival of one. True to her fears, or rather hopes, a bushy head of brunette hair appeared in the fireplace, followed by its owner. Covered in sooth as she was, and quite clearly pissed off, Minerva still thought that Hermione was breathtaking. It took all of her willpower not to launch herself at Hermione and smother her with kisses and apologies. She was still not convinced that she alone ought to make amendments.

"Hermione." She managed to say evenly. Hidden behind her large desk she was gripping the arm rests of her chair like a vice, forcing some semblance of control on herself.

"Minerva." Hermione replied equally coolly as she made her way across the office, vaguely aware that every single portrait in the room had their eyes on her. Rather than sitting down in one of the straight backed chairs in front of Minerva's desk, she stood in between them, looking the Scottish witch square in the eye.

Several seconds ticked by and neither of the witches said a word but eventually it was Hermione who broke the silence. "You're an arsehole, Minerva. Did you really HAVE to leave me, us, like that in the delivery room?" she asked, fairly satisfied with the tone she managed. It wasn't a pleasant tone but at least it was not hysterical.

Minerva could not reply immediately, she was much too engaged in struggling with her temper to form words coherently and not start shouting at the same time. The very suspicious lack of the child's presence had set her mood even before Hermione had said a word.

"You're the one to speak of arseholes..." She spat coldly. _'Although its fairly obvious that that is NOT what she'd been making good use of nine months ago._ ' The older witch thought, although she kept that particular acidic remark to herself, banking on the slim chance that they might somehow settle their problem.

"Meaning?" Hermione ground out tensely."Minerva, if you are going to insult and accuse me at least have the balls to do it up front, not in such an un-Gryffindor-like backhanded way." The younger witch said. She knew she was asking for it, but she had to somehow break through the walls the stubborn woman had built around herself.

Being cheated on was one thing for Minerva. She kept telling herself that if the younger woman had been honest about it immediately she would have forgiven her. Being lied to about it for nine months was an entirely different matter. But being called un-Gryffindor-like in the process? That was too much stress for her Scottish temper to bear and she suspected that the young woman knew it.

"It's not an accusation if its true, Hermione!" She spat viciously. "Rose has RED hair, for God's sake. How much more obvious can you get? And where is she anyway?"

Hermione tried to maintain her composure, really she did, but being yelled at was not something she enjoyed immensely. "It must have come from our families." She said, convinced of the truth of the statement. No other explanation was possible. _'Unless I was raped and then obliviated by a red haired man, but that is not particularly likely...'_ As for the location of their daughter, she hoped that Minerva would not notice that she neglected to reply. Telling that she was at the Burrow didn't seem like a particularly great idea.

"Does anyone in your family for the last four generations have red hair?" Minerva asked matter-of-factly.

Hermione only shook her head no, her features turning sad.

Even though Minerva was mightily upset at the moment she could not restrain her heart from going out to the distressed brunette standing sulkily in front of her desk. Damn her, but she still loved the woman. She was just not sure if she could trust her again.

"Neither do mine, Hermione." Minerva said quietly, her temper momentarily curbed by her lover's sadness. "My family had been famous for birthing children with black hair and vivid green eyes. Rose has red hair and blue eyes." She almost whispered the last few words.

Hermione's knees buckled at the hopeless finality of Minerva's tone. She finally decided to collapse into one of the chairs, all the while maintaining eye contact with her lover.

"Where is Rose?" Minerva tried again. Avoiding the question clearly wasn't working.

"I asked Molly to mind her while I came to talk to you." Hermione said defiantly, almost challenging the older woman to take issue with it. Just as she guessed it would, rage flashed in emerald orbs for a moment, but much to her surprise, Minerva remained silent.

"Lets do a paternity test." She said after a few seconds. When Minerva furrowed her brows in confusion she elaborated. "Being a transfiguration mistress, I expect I don't have to start explaining molecular biology to you. The muggles have invented a way to examine the DNA samples of people and give a 99.9% accurate testimony of kinship."

"And I suppose you've already contacted a suitable muggle who'd do the test for us? Talked to them in advance?" The words slipped out before Minerva could reconsider and she regretted them almost instantly.

"How dare you, Minerva McGonagall!" Hermione jumped from her seat, her own temper finally flaring when the full implication of Minerva's badly chosen words hit her. "How DARE you!" She practically yelled. "Your the bloody Headmistress of Hogwarts for God's sake, ask Horace to make some veritaserum if you can't take my word for it. I. Did. Not. Cheat. On. You." She ground out each word individually.

"For your information, I've sent some of the hair you've left behind in my flat to a muggle clinic. I'll show you proof of my fidelity, even if you are not cooperative." Hermione said midway through the office. "Although at this point I am not sure if I want to have anything to do with your arrogant ass."

Leaving the threat of a potential break up hanging in the air, Hermione marched toward the fireplace, she did not even stop when Minerva finally found her voice and called after her. She loved the woman dearly but she felt betrayed and abused and she vowed not to allow that to ever happen again. Minerva had a lot of apologizing to do before she'd forgive her.

* * *

To Be Continued

 **If you're enjoying the story, please feed the author with a few word-crumbs :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**FYI for Timeline: I'm using Rose Weasley's birth date for Rose McGonagall and since the HP wiki suggested a time range I'm picking 16 August 2006 so its not quite the beginning of the school year yet.**

 **A/N: Okay, so it seems I couldn't fit it into three chapters. At this point I am guessing four, maybe five instead.**

* * *

 **Sins of the Past**

 **Chapter 3**

 _nine days later..._

It was early morning and the sun broke through the thick curtains that were not so successfully keeping the room dark so its inhabitant may rest for a few more hours. The golden ray of light that managed to penetrate the darkness slowly crept across the rich red carpet, making the intrinsic detail woven into it stand out more visibly. It was a clever bit of craftsmanship, some who have seen it would even go so far as to say clever bit of magic, that made the carpet shine in such a way only when it was hit by the rays of the sun.

In another quarter of an hour the thin line of light managed to creep up the matching red bed cover that its owner did not even bother to take off before sliding under the sheets, figuring that she'd need the extra warmth without her partner being there to chase away her chills. However, much to her dismay, sleep refused to come until the small hours of the morning which meant that she was far from well-rested when the sun peeked inside her bed chamber. When she was roused enough to realize that the light hit her face the witch groaned and turned on her side disapprovingly, automatically pulling her legs closer to her chest.

The animagus' head was slightly spinning from sleep deprivation and she felt an unwelcome sense of nausea that spread from somewhere between her stomach and chest. Not quite awake yet, she blindly groped around the bed, looking for the familiar smaller body of her lover to curl around, only to find that the the bed was stone cold on both sides around her. This disappointing revelation brought her completely back into the realm of reality and she allowed a melancholy sigh to escape her lips. _'Heavens this is madness... I need to find a way to get through to her.'_ She thought sourly. She had sent three letters to her in the past week and even tried fire calling but got no answer. The older woman didn't necessarily want to resort to the forcefulness of apparating or using the floo network if she didn't have to. She'd have much preferred that Hermione decide on her own to be willing to speak to her. She vaguely wondered what their daughter might turn out to be like if she had two such ridiculously stubborn witches as mothers. _'Assuming that she's mine...'_

Minerva tried banishing the thought, she really did, but it stuck on her quite uncomfortably. She desperately wanted to believe the young woman but her own insecurities were getting in the way. Even knowing that the age difference between them only counted for half compared to what it would have been if they were muggles, she still couldn't comprehend what Hermione saw in her, and that made her constantly wonder if she wasn't going to wake up one day and find that the beautiful witch had run off with a more age-appropriate suitor. _'You know Minerva... you'd be the first one to give a painful scolding to anyone if they dared to assume Hermione was that fickle.'_

* * *

 _Hermione's flat..._

Although they spent the night in different beds and had almost entirely different reasons, Hermione was just as sleep-deprived as Minerva. As well-behaved as Rose had been during her pregnancy, she was turning out to be a terrible sleeper now that she had arrived. The brunette witch was up about every two hours trying to soothe the wailing baby, which left her precious little time to dwell on her broken relationship. She dearly missed Minerva and wished nothing more than to sink into the animagus' embrace, like a comforting cocoon of warmth to hide in, but knew that she needed to stand up to the stubborn woman if they wanted a healthy relationship. She knew Minerva had insecurity issues, although for the life of her she couldn't figure out why. Hermione though, and in fact many people agreed, that it was fairly obvious that she was head over heels in love with the silly witch, yet the Scottish woman didn't quite dare to believe it, even after five years.

 _'At least her letters seem to suggest that she regrets being such an asshole. Doesn't negate the fact though that she bloody left me in the delivery room just when our daughter was born.'_ Deep down, Hermione had a difficult time staying angry with the woman, hence why she had not yet replied to any of her letters. The brunette witch worried that she'd give her position up too easily. She also knew damn well that when Minerva came to her senses she would torment herself mercilessly over the fact that she'd missed Rose's first week so in a way she felt that her punishment was already doled out, even if not delivered yet.

Soft cries dragged Hermione from her thoughts back to reality again, and she jumped out of the bed automatically, donned her robe automatically and paddled into the adjoining room automatically as well. The fact that she'd been thinking of the Scottish witch so hard made her remember the Gaelic lullaby that Minerva always used to sing, voice barely louder than a whisper, her head resting on her growing belly. She couldn't quite pronounce the words but she remembered the tone perfectly so when she picked up Rose from her bed she started humming it to her. Her brain didn't even register the fact that she'd pulled a flap of her robe to one side and guided the squirming babe towards her breast, it came to her so naturally.

A few minutes later Rose was fast asleep again and looked quite a bit more relaxed than any one time during the night. _'I wonder if it was because of Minerva's lullaby... '_ The thought didn't surprise Hermione much but it did add to her growing anxiety about their relationship. _'Apparently Rose misses her just as much as I do.'_ She knew that they both needed the stubborn animagus in their lives but she was damned if she was going to let Minerva get away with treating her the was she did.

* * *

 _Hogwarts, a few hours later..._

Monday. Stereotypical as it may be, Minerva absolutely abhorred Mondays and especially the last Monday before term. It meant a staff meeting where she had to endure last minute attempts to alter the budgets which her staff damn well knew she wouldn't be able to approve. This particular Monday was especially high on the animagus' shit list because all she wanted to do was run to Hermione and beg for forgiveness personally. It was clear that letters could not persuade her, no matter how heartfelt they were.

Her patronus had bounded off to find her deputy a few minutes ago so she expected Filius to appear any minute now. Burning with the desire to have the meeting out of her hair, she had nothing better to do than abuse the magical carpet in her room by digging a hole into it with her pacing. The sharp heels of her boots connected with the material in a soft thud, which was, she thought absently, oddly out of sync with the pounding of her heart.

Suddenly her attention was grabbed by the distant creaking of stone which her sensitive ears picked up coming from behind her door. The stone gargoyle guarding her office had just revealed the staircase leading up. Somewhat uncharacteristically, she was feeling rather anxious to see her deputy for she was about to ask something that had never happened during her forty something year career. She was going to ask for a replacement willingly.

"Filius, good morning. I trust my patronus was not too early?" Minerva greeted the half-goblin as he appeared through the arched door.

"Good morning, Minerva. Not at all. I was enjoying the morning sunshine and a cup of tea before today's meeting." Filius replied, sharp eyes analysing the witch standing before him. One of the skills he could hone to uncanny perfection in Ravenclaw was to notice the very quality of the air changing around people, not to mention their subtle body language. Minerva's reaction to his last two words made him come to the very logical conclusion that she in fact wished to speak to him about said meeting. _'Why else would she want to meet me beforehand?'_

"Ah, yes, Filius, today's meeting. I'm afraid, my friend, that we have to write history today." Minerva started somewhat mysteriously. When the charms professor's left eyebrow shot up quizzically in reaction to the odd statement she blurted out her request. "Nothing as taxing as the most recent historical events. I merely need to request that you fill in for me today."

* * *

An owl hooted softly as he landed on the sill of the open window, alerting his owner to his return. Hermione had brought the brownish grey barn owl about two years ago and he proved to be quite the loyal and affectionate type. She'd been slightly worried about buying her own owl after having been subjected to several nips and bites from Sirius', but she bought Beo hoping that she'd rather luck out with one more similar in personality to Hedwig.

She was grateful for the shop keeper's advice who told her to spend some time in the owlery and see which one flew to her willingly instead of picking one herself. She felt miserable for the first fifteen minutes as the owls she walked past ignored her, some even turning their back on her. Oddly enough she was assaulted by memories of her first flying lesson which proved to be a similar failure. But when she reached Beo's perch the owl only took a few seconds to look her in the eye before taking flight and landing on her shoulder. She had never admitted it to anyone but Minerva that she squeaked in terror when the bird approached her thus, expecting an attack of some sorts.

"Hello Beo." Hermione said as she affectionately caressed the bird's head. She remembered his alarmed expression when she almost screamed at him during their first encounter and how much he had grown on her since then. She gave him a nice juicy piece of bacon to gobble up before he sat back on his perch in the living room.

The brunette witch took one look at the letter her owl had brought and knew immediately what it was. _'The test results.'_ It was in a regular muggle envelope that was different from wizarding paper both in shape and size so it was unmistakable. She picked up the letter with trembling hands and nearly tore it in half in her frenzy to open it.

* * *

Minerva had to admit that she had always loved muggle florist shops. The scent that filled her sensitive nose even before she entered, the unparalleled freshness of the air despite the closed space was something she enjoyed immensely. Granted, she did not do a lot of shopping in muggle London but it was all the more reason to cherish those few occasions.

However, whether this particular occasion would be cherished or not was yet to be determined. The animagus vaguely dreaded the moment when she had to knock on Hermione's door. She chose to go about her apology the muggle way, hoping that the younger woman would appreciate the gesture.

Minerva started collecting all her knowledge of muggle flowers as she stepped across the threshold of the florist shop she knew was closest to Hermione's flat. A middle-aged-looking muggle woman directed her attention away from the bouquet she had been working on when the tiny bell attached to the entrance announced her arrival.

"Good morning! How are you to day?" She said with a smile.

Muggles' tendency to ask that question but never actually be interested in the truthful answer always unnerved Minerva. She prided herself on being quite successful in interacting with muggles but she always had to remind herself of the pleasantries that were customary among them and the appropriate replies.

"I'm fine thank you. And yourself?" Minerva replied almost mechanically. _'Returning the question was almost as important...'_

"Likewise, thank you. What my I help you with?" The florist asked.

"Well..." Minerva stammered uncharacteristically over her words. She had not quite selected a flower yet, but in her mind she wished for something that was not too cliché for an 'I'm sorry I was a pig-headed asshole' conversation. "I'd like a bouquet that says that I'm sorry for my actions. It should also say I love you but more personal than red roses? I don't want it to be very cliché. She deserves so much more." Minerva said. Only when a look of surprise flashed in the shopkeeper's eyes did she remember that same sex relationships were not quite as commonly accepted among muggles. To the woman's credit though, she masked her surprise within a second with a professional smile of understanding, turning her eyes to the cut flowers on the side.

"If you want to go for a more personal bouquet I think I might have just the thing in mind." The woman said, her eyes lighting up at the possibility of an interesting arrangement. "What are your zodiac signs?"

It was the animagus' turn to mask the look of surprise and utter confusion on her face. _'What the bloody hell does zodiac signs have to do with flowers?'_ She wondered silently as she racked her brain to remember what Hermione's zodiac might be. She knew the younger woman's birthday obviously but she was helplessly handicapped in anything that had anything to do, even remotely, with divination. "Ummm... I think she's a Virgo and I'm a Libra? September 19th and October 4th?" She finally said, hoping that being unsure about such frivolities would not be odd.

The woman smiled at her and nodded approvingly, assuming that this older customer was not really interested in esoteric things. "Right you are. Now, how would you like a nice composition of daisies and hydrangeas with a bit of ivy to go with it?" She said, her eyes lighting up as she said it.

"Oh, you know, this is really a lucky constellation for an apology!" She exclaimed as she gathered some of the flowers she mentioned to show Minerva what the bouquet would look like. "The daisy is... it represents the Virgo sign" the woman stumbled over her words momentarily. She did not want to assume anything about the relationship this woman might have with the other woman she was apologizing to, so she tried to go with a more neutral description.

She held out a couple of daisies for Minerva to see. "They come in a wide variety of colours so if you like them go ahead and pick which ones you like best. The daisy also symbolizes innocence and loyal love." She explained.

"And the Hydrangeas?" Minerva asked, her interest piqued. _'This muggle science of flowers seems to have some merit. I need to remember what this woman is saying, perhaps Hermione might like it.'_

"Oh that is a very interesting flower, very interesting indeed. It has both positive and negative aspects. Primarily they symbolize heartfelt emotions but they can also express gratitude for being understood." She florist explained, getting more excited with each flower she picked. She was happy for a customer that didn't just come in, ask for something specific or boring and leave. The most interesting part of her job was when she got to help people understand flowers more.

„And what's the negative interpretation?" The animagus asked. There were some aspects of Herbology which she was fairly good at, although she never had the patience to actually care for the plants. Part of her problem with them was that many couldn't tell her if they needed watering or anything.

„In its negative sense the hydrangea symbolizes frigidity and heartlessness." The woman said solemnly. „But we'll just concentrate on the positive aspects, won't we? No sense dwelling on the bad things is what I always told my children." The florist said with a reassuring smile.

 _'Heartlessness, eh? My god, woman, if only you knew...'_ Minerva mused at the ridiculous coincidence. For it must be a coincidence, her analytical mind refused to believe that zodiac signs or this flower interpretation truly had any bearing on their lives. _'I certainly was a heartless barbarian, leaving Hermione like that...'_

"I think I'm quite taken with the idea. And the ivy?" Minerva said approvingly.

"That's the 'I'm sorry' part." The florist said, turning to her stock of greens used to decorate bouquets. "It also says that although you may have made a mistake, you are dependable and committed to the relationship you have with the person." She picked a string of ivy from the pile, experimentally wrapping it around a few flowers for show. "Extraordinarily, the ivy also happens to be your Celtic sign...judging by your accent you are Scottish? Your astrological fit is almost uncommonly perfect."

"Brilliant, I'll take it!" Minerva said immediately. All the things the florist said about these flowers sounded almost too perfect for Minerva to believe. Had she not been analytical and logical to a fault she would have been inclined to say that even the starts wanted them to be together. _'Bah, a load of rubbish that is. But muggles certainly seem to have an uncanny talent for coincidences.'_

* * *

 _Hermione's flat..._

The younger witch's flat was littered with crumpled balls of parchment, each draft of a letter she wanted to send to her lover discarded almost as soon as she finished writing it. Upon reading the results her first reaction was to release the air that threatened to explode her lungs, relief flooding her senses. She was immensely grateful that she could cross rape and obliviation off the list of possibilities. The last thing she needed was to find out that her child had been the product of aggression and violence rather than love.

Eventually the brains of the Golden trio decided that less was sometimes more, a sentiment she could never successfully apply to her work while at Hogwarts, and so resolved to send the test results without an accompanying letter. The numbers and the verbal explanation printed on the paper would scream 'I told you so' louder than anything she could say.

With slightly trembling hands she picked the letter off the table and folded it in half to fit a standard wizarding envelope, quickly scribbling Minerva's name on it.

Stepping to her faithful owl, she once again petted his head. "Beo, can you please take this to Minerva?" She said, handing it to the owl who took it in his beak. However, to Hermione's surprise, the bird refused to budge.

"What's wrong, Beo? Too tired? I can ask for a post owl if you feel you need to rest." Hermione said democratically. Although she knew house elves and owls were quite a different category altogether, she still felt that she was responsible for the bird's well being and didn't like the idea of overworking him. Scotland was far away from London.

To her surprise the owl's response was to increase the pressure of his beak on the paper which she could see by the slight dent it caused in the shape of the envelope. "Well, alright then. I didn't mean to insult you. But why aren't you taking off?" She said more to herself than to the bird really, knowing that he couldn't really reply in any humanly intelligible way.

She was jolted from pondering her predicament by the doorbell.

"Now who might that be?" Hermione wondered out loud. She shot Beo a suspicious glance. _'Surly not...'_

She crossed the small living room to the front door and peeked through the spy hole but couldn't see who her visitor might be. All she could see was some kind of blue material blocking her line of sight.

The brunette witch had always been a cautious type but she honed this trait to the highest level during the war which meant that she never went anywhere, even inside her own flat, without her wand. She had it ready behind her back when she opened the door, only to find one Minerva McGonagall cradling a bouquet of colourful flowers in one hand and sporting an immensely guilty look on her face.

* * *

TBC

I used Google to find flower meanings and zodiac signs, none of the above is made up or altered to fit the story. In my mind it's just proof that these two really are meant to be together.

Thanks again for your reviews so far, I do so love it when people interact with my stories! :) I'm still debating reacting publicly to the hypotheses I got so far (did so in PM) but I'm not sure if it wouldn't give away too many spoilers? What do you think?

 **Please review and let me know how this story is turning out!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for being late with this chapter, I had a hard time writing "The talk." and I wanted to do it justice. Did I do well?**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Sins of the Past**

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

The two witches stared at one another for a seemingly endless moment, both seizing up the other's mood and mentally preparing themselves for what they knew was going to be a difficult conversation. Hermione decided that the level of difficulty was hinged on how Minerva saw their past week and the few interactions they had.

Wave upon wave of emotions swirled around in the rich green eyes of the visiting animagus, betraying how out of her element she was. The normally proud Gryffindor, the stoic 'Headmistress McGonagall' was replaced by a woman humbled by her own mistakes, who, despite the mortification she felt over her actions, found within herself the strength to face the consequences.

Hermione's chocolate brown eyes shone with unshed tears, moved by how much vulnerability Minerva was willing to reveal despite her reserved nature, but feelings of resentment also bubbled up inside her at the injustice of Minerva's recent behaviour. She had never given the older woman reason to be distrustful and the hurtful way she acted out at such a precious moment in their lives was not something she could overlook without at least an exceptionally good reason.

"Good morning, Hermione. May I come in?" Minerva broke the silence. She fidgeted awkwardly with the flowers in her hand, concentrating on maintaining sombre facial expressions. Despite the seriousness of their impending conversation and the depth of her shame, she was so happy to see the younger woman that she had to fight herself to avoid grinning like an idiot drunk on amortentia.

The younger witch had yet to find her voice, so she invited the woman inside by way of stepping to the side and opening the door wider. Her other hand let go of her wand long ago, trusting the animagus implicitly. Even if they were going to fight it was beyond the shadow of a doubt that Minerva would never raise her wand against her.

The Scottish witch stood in the middle of the familiar living room clutching the flowers to her chest and despite knowing every nook and cranny of the flat she had a decidedly lost look on her face.

"I brought you flowers." She continued the hitherto one-sided conversation, slightly raising the bouquet a bit higher in her hands.

"Thanks." Hermione said finally, her voice raw and hoarse from the sheer amount of control she had to exercise upon herself. The younger witch was very much conflicted, not knowing whether crying, shouting, laughing, or just simply hugging her lover would be the better choice. _'Or all of the above...in this order...'_ she thought, mentally rolling her eyes at her own indecision.

As she moved closer to take the flowers her eyes remained fastened on the dark haired woman who brought them. While normally she was uncannily perceptive she would not have been able to name a single flower in the bouquet at that moment because her eyes were only for the animagus that came with them. In a moment of weakness she allowed her eyes to trace her lover's features from those stunning emerald eyes across high cheekbones to pale lips that were currently pressed together tightly.

The older witch had a closely guarded look Hermione knew well. It either meant that she was trying to refrain from doing something because she thought it would be inappropriate or she was trying to control her temper. _'Gosh, I hope its the former. I can deal with inappropriate behaviour but the last thing I need now is her temper flaring...'_

The brunette's heart sped up as her hands reached around the stems, anticipating the moment when their bodies would touch, for which she could barely mask the need radiating from her every gesture. The back of her fingers brushed against the material of Minerva's muggle sweater, causing Hermione's breath to hitch much louder than she would have liked. While she hadn't planned on being unreasonably hard on the woman she hadn't wanted to start their conversation from such a weak position either. _'Damn...all she has to do is look at me to drive me to the edge of my sanity._ '

"Have a seat?" She suggested before she unceremoniously fled to the kitchen. While she could have conjured a vase with water in it wandlessly she preferred to do it the muggle way. The brunette witch didn't even bother to justify it, she just needed to preoccupy herself for a moment to gather her wits. It was all she could do to not throw Minerva's gift to the side and tackle the woman.

As she dwadled around with the flowers she noticed how peculiar they were. None of them were the cliché 'I'm sorry I was an asshole' flowers. _'I think the smaller ones are maybe daisies?'_ She wondered silently but she had no clue about the big blue flowers. _'And what's with the ivy?'_

After a few minutes she decided that she'd been hiding for long enough and emerged from the kitchen. The first thing she noted was that Beo had flown from his perch and landed on the coffee table in front of Minerva, who looked at the bird thoroughly surprised. To Hermione's slight annoyance, the bird gave her what she interpreted as a pointed look after delivering the message, and then flew back to his resting place without a sound. _'Hmpf, cheeky bird. I'll need to ask Minerva if she knows how Beo knew she was coming...after our conversation.'_

The other thing Hermione noticed was that Minerva chose to sit on the sofa facing the fireplace. She could also have taken either of the arm chairs but apparently decided to give Hermione the opportunity to decide if she wanted to sit within reaching distance.

 _'Do I?'_ The younger woman wondered for a brief moment before dismissing the resentful side of her that said sitting in the arm chair would show the other woman who was the boss. _'Yeah, it'd more likely show her whose the more childish...'_

The animagus turned towards Hermione, directing the brunette witch's attention to the letter in her hand with a delicate movement of her wrist. "We are so much alike... you decided to answer my letters the day I found the courage to seek you out in person." It was more of a statement than a question. She fiddled with the seal on the envelope for a moment, tracing her fingers over the imprint in the wax. It was a simple HG styled in elegant cursive, left by the signet ring she had gifted to Hermione upon her entry into magical law enforcement.

Hermione sensed the woman's anxiety which let her know that she was probably mentally preparing herself to discuss the Hippogriff in the room. She scooted to the edge of the sofa and busied herself with the flowers, pretending to be arranging and adjusting them. She decided that she'd let Minerva make the first move. _'I'd done enough talking last week... it's her turn.'_

The animagus in question silently followed her movements, taking in everything, noting how nervous her lover was. She'd likely be upset if she knew how many tells she had but the older woman wasn't about to point them out at present. She was almost giddy with delight when Hermione chose to sit next to her on the sofa rather than in one of the arm chairs. _'Maybe I wasn't imagining the longing in her eyes earlier...'_

"Care to listen to what I have to say for myself before I read your letter?" Minerva asked in what seemed to be an uncharacteristically submissive manner. Usually she knew exactly what to say and needed no one's permission to speak her mind, choosing her words with cutting precision to befit whatever was under discussion. _'But then again... sometimes the best course of action is to let the other person decide.'_

When Hermione nodded the ebony haired witch took a deep breath to collect her thoughts. "There's not much to say, to be honest." She said, her voice clear and steady. "I have neither an excuse nor an explanation for my behaviour. I was abysmally foolish to have doubted you when you've never given me reason to do so..." The animagus continued, her accent growing thicker and her voice slightly more unsteady as she was swept off her feet by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. "I'm unspeakably sorry, Hermione. I'm a foolish old woman who doesn't even deserve to be looked at by you after betraying you like this..." She said, her voice breaking over the last few words. Tears she vowed she wouldn't let fall shined in her eyes treacherously. _'Dammit, I didn't want to cry...I don't want to manipulate her into forgiving me like this...'_

"When you came into my office the other day and basically told me to shove my attitude wherever I wanted it...Merlin, Hermione, I wanted to drop down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness right then and there...and little Rosie... Gahd.. I missed her first week..." Minerva said, stumbling over the words as she fought to finish her much rehearsed apology. Her eyes were opened unnaturally wide because she was afraid to blink lest the tears would start falling.

Finally, when a mental imagine of the one and only time she had seen her daughter assaulted her mind and she realized that she'd not even held her baby girl in her arms yet, her emotions won. Her defensive walls crumbled under the siege and with a strangled groan the proud animagus started crying uncontrollably, face hidden behind her hands.

* * *

It took Hermione the better part of a half an hour to help Minerva calm down. Once the older woman broke down she couldn't stop the years of pent up frustration and, what she believed was a well-hidden, insecurity from bubbling up inside her. She poured her heart out to Hermione, speaking of a fear of dying alone, both the wonder and terror that the young woman brought into Minerva's life. The promise of a future and the unimaginable pressure the animagus felt to not fail her own and her family's expectations. When Hermione found the courage to ask her out it had been nearly two decades since Minerva had any companionship and she was not sure if she still knew how to be in a relationship with anyone. That and the fact that her maternal grandparents' portraits were incessant in pestering their grandchild about continuing the Ross line.

 _'I guess that would sort of explain why Rosie's hair colour hit such a nerve with Minerva...'_ Hermione thought as she listened to her lover's rant. She was aware that this revelation should not make the older woman's behaviour acceptable but she couldn't help but wonder exactly how much pressure they were putting on her. She knew that the Rosses used to be a pure blood family until Minerva's mother eloped with a muggle minister so it wasn't hard to imagine what kind of expectations they might have.

"Mind you, I don't expect any of this rubbish to lessen the severity of my misbehaviour in your eyes, dearest." Minerva said between two sniffs. "I know I'd been a right fiend this past week..."

"Oh stop it, Minerva!" Hermione suddenly said, quite exasperated with the woman who constantly berated herself. "Seriously. You are your own worst enemy." She continued in a softer tone as she reached out to squeeze the startled woman's hand. "You wouldn't have half as many doubts if stopped kicking yourself over the slightest things." The brunette witch said kindly. "And yes, you were an arsehole of epic proportions." She suddenly continued in a firmer tone. "But the fact is that I love you and need you in my life. And so does Rose."

"Where is she anyway?" Minerva asked suddenly, interrupting Hermione's lecture.

"She's in the baby room, probably asleep." Hermione said automatically. "We'd know if she was awake."

"You are being astonishingly lenient with me, Hermione. Why?" Minerva asked, changing the subject back for another moment. She'd also almost said she didn't deserve the younger witch but she'd caught herself before doing so. She'd just been chastised for berating herself all the time, and seemed to be, as muggles liked to say, off the hook, so the least she could do was try harder.

"You really want to know why?" Hermione asked. Upon the animagus' nod she said, "Because I read your letters. And also because you came here and said all you did before opening that." She gestured towards the unopened letter that was left on the coffee table, almost forgotten. "So...yes, while I won't ever forget what happened, I'm quite willing to forgive you. But if you ever leave me like that again..." She didn't finish the sentence. There was no need for an actual threat to be verbalized.

Even though Minerva was overjoyed that she was forgiven, her brows knitted together, eyes slightly narrowing as she tried to comprehend the cryptic answer. Wondering what might be in the letter that would cause Hermione to say what she did, she pondered the possibilities for a moment and the obvious answer hit her soon enough. "The results of the muggle test?" She enquired gesturing at the still unopened letter. This time it was the younger witch's turn to answer with a simple nod of her head.

"Love... I hope you believe me when I say that I don't actually need to see the results to believe Rosie is my daughter but..." Minerva said, looking somewhat sheepish for just a second "I have to admit I've never seen such a thing in my life. Mind if I take a look? Out of curiosity?"

A surprised laugh burst from Hermione's lips upon the admission, the pure joy that her partner was so interested in muggle things lighting up the younger witch's face. Despite being an extremely accomplished witch she'd never stopped being part muggle and was happy that the animagus was interested, especially considering her youthful brush with the threat of living a forced muggle life.

* * *

After studying the piece of paper for a while, determined to figure it out, Minerva thought that she'd found the most important bit of writing on the paper but for the life of her she could not read it. _'Merlin, how do muggles manage to write in such an orderly manner and with so small letters? The...legged..alleged! And is that father? Am I the alleged father?'_ Peering over the rim of her glasses Minerva looked at Hermione who had an amused expression plastered all over her face as she watched her struggling with the report. "Help me, please?" Minerva finally admitted defeat, handing the paper over to Hermione who scooted closer with her characteristic Cheshire cat grin. "And how in the devil do muggles write in such script? I can't imagine how they curve these letters..."

Hermione had to suppress a giggle at her lover's antics. She had to keep reminding herself that when Minerva was last in a muggle environment the computers of today hadn't been invented yet. And, being the daughter of a rural minister, she probably hadn't even seen a muggle typewriter before. "They don't do it by hand, love. You know...I could read and write quite intelligibly by the time I arrived at Hogwarts. Muggles do learn handwriting but this was written with a computer. A machine that does all sorts of things much better and faster than humans can."

"Like writing?" Minerva asked sceptically.

"Well... it was originally designed to make very complex calculations possible within seconds...now that I think about it... maybe computers could be quite useful in Arithmancy..." Hermione trailed off, lost in thought for a moment. "Anyway, it kind of evolved and now people do almost everything on their computers. Including writing longer pieces, yes. Like articles, books, official things. Modern technology basically replaced traditional printing presses." She finished her explanation.

"So what does this say?" Minerva prompted, handing the piece of paper to Hermione. While she found muggle technology fascinating in general, she was more interested in the specific bit of paper in her hand.

"It says, 'The alleged father is not excluded as the biological father of the tested child. Based on testing results obtained from analyses of the DNA loci listed, the probability of paternity is 99,9998%. This probability of paternity is calculated by comparing to an untested, unrelated random individual of the Caucasian population'." Hermione read out the verbal summary of the numbers. "It basically means that they compared your DNA with Rose's and another random person's to see how alike or different they are and it shows that enough of your DNA matches to prove that you're the other mother."

"Speaking of motherhood..." Minerva said.

* * *

Even though Minerva had a wealth of experience in dealing with teenaged children she found that she was quite nervous when Hermione led her to Rose's room. All the furniture and bits and bobs were familiar as they did their shopping together. Hermione insisted that she wanted their child to have both muggle and wizarding things to which Minerva consented without a second thought. That essentially meant that she got dragged all over muggle London and had to acquaint herself with the massive selection of baby things these shops offered. Much to both witch's satisfaction, they deepened their bonding over their shared annoyance with the gender bias muggles exhibited. However, this also meant that they had a devil of a time buying toys.

They both peered over the railing of the muggle baby bed in which Rose was currently sleeping. Minerva had won that particular battle and they had agreed that they'd have a store bought muggle bed in Hermione's flat and would be using Minerva's ancestral baby bed when they spent time at Hogwarts or the Manor.

The red haired baby had been sound asleep since morning but she must have sensed her parents' presence because almost immediately she blinked her eyes open. Or perhaps she was simply awakened by the whispering voices of the witches as they affectionately cooed at her.

Hermione picked her up gently and attempted to deposit her in Minerva's arms but the older woman looked so startled by the prospect that she stopped mid-motion. "Don't you want to hold her?" She asked, her voice slightly confused and hurt by her partner's hesitancy.

The animagus realized that Hermione must have misinterpreted her nervousness and attempted to reassure her with a smile, even though she could feel that her facial expressions schooled themselves to mirror her embarrassment. "I do, love, but I have to admit I'm a bit nervous. What if I drop her? Or hold her the wrong way?"

Hermione stared at the older witch in surprise, her eyes comically wide. She had never expected that Minerva would not know how to handle small children. "But... didn't you have younger brothers? And I thought you used to have a close relationship with your niece and nephew?" She asked.

Memories of her long dead brothers assaulted Minerva's mind and her eyes suddenly became sad. While the McGonagall family was generally considered to be fortunate, all three siblings having survived Voldemort's first reign, she lost both of her brothers a few years later. Robert had succumbed to dragon pox and Malcolm died from injuries sustained in a nasty flying accident. Her niece and nephew still lived but as they grew older their visits became fewer and farther in between, especially after she moved back to Hogwarts after Elph's death. It had been years since they'd been in contact so she knew absolutely nothing about them.

"Sweetheart... you always seem to forget just how old I am. The last time I held an infant in my hands was a little more than three decades ago." Minerva said softly.

Hermione quickly did the math, realizing that the animagus' still living relatives, if she had any, were probably a few years older than her self. "Oh." She finally said. "Well, you needn't worry, it's not rocket science." She said but upon seeing the other woman's comically confused expression she added. "That's... never mind. It basically means it's not terribly hard to figure out. Here, I'll show you."

She stepped closer, guiding the squirming infant into her other mother's arms with one hand, using the other to wrap Minerva's arm securely around their daughter. "There. See? She's not that frightening." She said, smiling at the older woman who all but melted as she looked at the tiny human in her hands. Even though Rose was much too young for any sort of recognition she instinctively snuggled closer to her other mother, latching onto the warmth that radiated from her.

"She's perfect." Minerva reiterated the words she had spoken when she first set eyes on their child more than a week ago. She started singing her mother's Gaelic lullaby to Rose in a whisper which the tiny creature seemed to recognize because she seemed to try to focus on its source.

Hermione suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion and she slipped an arm around Minerva's waist, making the first full physical contact with the woman in over a week. "Our child..." She responded. She knew these were her exact first words upon seeing Rose for the first time. _'Merlin knows I've re-watched that memory often enough...'_ She could feel happy tears silently sliding down her cheeks as she watched the love of her life cradling their child in her arms and softly singing to her.

Minerva was hyper-aware of Hermione's arm around her waist and she stumbled over the next few words but continued singing nonetheless. An overwhelming sensation of joy burst inside her chest as she took in the reality that she was standing in Hermione's flat, holding their child in her hands as Hermione held her. She was also aware that her love was crying but she knew they were happy tears, the blinding smile Hermione had plastered on her face was testimony to it.

As she finished her song she turned her head slightly, her eyes connecting with the warm brown orbs of the younger woman, and she felt everything, her entire life clicking, sliding into place. She was home. "I love you." She stated simply, moving closer to Hermione, moulding their sides together but not daring to return the half embrace. She was afraid that holding Rose with one hand would not be secure enough.

"And I love you." was Hermione heartfelt reply, her head instinctively moving closer, eyes flicking to the older woman's lips. "We haven't said hello properl..." She started to say, as a means of inviting Minerva for a kiss but she couldn't finish the sentence as the animagus inclined her head and brushed her lips to hers mid-sentence.

The kiss sent sparks of joy down their spines as lips gently reacquainted themselves, moving slowly but deliberately. Minerva's moan of approval broke their trance a minute later and Hermione broke the kiss with a love-sick smile on her face. "Welcome home, love."

* * *

TBC

 **A/N: I know, I know. I'm evil for dragging out the suspense for so long. But I promise to get on with unravelling the mystery in the next chapter. At this point I'm not even going to try to guess how many chapters it's going to take, I'll just roll with it.**

 **I'd like to say thanks to Fastlight who's been sharing lovely ideas with me on possible solutions to the mystery. One of them was that Rose might be a Metamorphmagus which is just too good to pass up. I'm tempted to start a sequel once this is finished and make Hugo a Metamorphmagus, possibly writing a series of stand alone stories about their adventures growing up. How'd you all like that? (And yes, I do plan on continuing Save me from me but I guess I needed a bit of light hearted stuff in my writing.)**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own creativity with JKR's amazing world.

A/N1: Yeah another chapter. It's spiralling out of control. But I'm having fun with it. I do hope you are too?

AN2: The song in this chapter is the rewritten version of * **Mordred's Lullaby by Heather Dale**. All copyrights in connection to the song are hers, I just got creative with the lyrics to fit the story.

AN3: sort of **quasi-spoiler in the author's note section at the end**! You've been warned.

* * *

Sins of the Past

Chapter 5

Hermione secretly adored the Weasley's ramshackle home even though she never expressed it in so many words. It was so inherently magical that the brunette witch always felt like she had stepped into one of her childhood fairy tales. Even after having entered the wizarding world nearly two decades ago she was awed by the spectacle of magic and gleeful memories from her youthful years bubbled up inside her, making her feel giddy with joy.

This time, however, Hermione was much too nervous about their imminent conversation with the Weasleys and try as she might she couldn't distract herself. Normally she'd be delighted to inspect Molly's various clever spells designed to lessen her workload or the various magical paraphernalia scattered around the house, but today all she could think about was what Minerva and she were about to ask.

"Is anything the matter, dearie?" Molly asked, concerned. After having reared so many children her keen eyes never failed to spy distress, particularly upon the features of those she cared for. While not her daughter by blood, Hermione had a special place in her heart and she could read the younger witch with uncanny precision. "You're as ashen as if you'd just seen a dementor."

Her gaze shifted to Minerva for a moment, taking the animagus in. She'd known the older woman for almost all of her life, having learnt transfiguration from her during her Hogwarts years and then fighting two wars along her side as Order members. She assessed the Scottish woman's behaviour and posture with a measure of satisfaction, noting the effort Minerva was putting into emotionally supporting her partner. The woman had been immersed in her now perfected "Stalwart Headmistress Minerva McGonagall" persona much before she actually became Headmistress, and as a result, had some difficulty removing the mask and expressing affection. She was pleased to see that the younger woman did wonders to her, helping her open up more at least in the privacy of her small circle of friends.

They were sat together on one of the sofas in the Weasleys' living room, and Minerva had sat quite close to Hermione, legs turning towards her, an arm draped across the back of the furniture, her hand disappearing under the chestnut curls. It was evident to all in the room, even without the gentle look Minerva was giving the younger woman that she was her sole focus. Hermione had a hand resting on Minerva's thigh in return, absently scratching the material under her fingers but after a brief glance to seek reassurance she focused her attention on Molly.

"I'll admit I'm a tad bit nervous." Hermione said vaguely, not quite knowing where to start. She expected that Arthur would be ecstatic at her suggestion but was extremely apprehensive of Molly's potential reaction. "We've come to ask you a rather personal favour."

The very air around the Weasley couple changed as they became slightly more alert. Minerva wouldn't have said that it was a bad change, but it was clear that they became more serious, giving their utmost attention to Hermione. While Arthur sat back, making himself more comfortable on the sofa, Molly scooted closer to the edge, her elbows rested on her knees and her hands clasped one another and eyes firmly trained on Hermione in concentration. _'Classic alert Molly.'_ Minerva thought.

"And what is it?" Arthur cut to the chase.

"Well...you've both seen Rose." Hermione stated, referring to her last visit when she'd left Rose with the Weasleys for a couple of hours. Despite only having spent about ten minutes at Minerva's office that afternoon she only managed to pick her daughter up a few hours later by which time Arthur had arrived home. Not wishing to unnecessarily expose her infant child to stress she spent the time calming her rampaging emotions. How they managed to keep Rose a secret from their children was a mystery to Hermione but she wasn't about to poke at this one.

Upon their nod she took a deep breath and blurted out their request in one breath. "We'd like to ask you Arthur to undergo a complex muggle DNA testing procedure to determine if Rose is related to your family."

Arthur's eyes twitched slightly as he took in the information. A part of him was excited about the prospect of coming into contact with muggle technology, despite Molly's reaction to the last time he dabbled in muggle remedies, but he felt quite astonished at the request, not knowing where to put it.

"Arthur? Why Arthur?" Molly asked, equally stunned. While she had absolutely nothing against muggles she did not share her husband's passion for their ways so she had not even that to support her, particularly when it came to anything a healer ought to be doing.

* * *

"Well, that went well..." Minerva dead panned after they'd left the Burrow some time later. She automatically removed the sooth from herself and Hermione as well the moment they stepped out of the fireplace. If there was one thing the animagus had learnt from the portrait of her maternal grandmother, it was that sooth was evil and had absolutely no place in a respectable house, except maybe inside the fireplace.

"You mean when Molly nearly hexed me because she thought I was accusing Arthur of having an affair with my mother? Or when **she** accused **us** that we wanted to murder her husband with dangerous muggle insanities?" Hermione asked mock-innocently. She loved her magical adopted mother, for that is how she looked upon the Weasley matriarch, particularly after she had lost contact with her real one, but she had incredibly little patience for muggle technology.

"Both, I guess." Minerva said as she removed her cloak and set it sailing across the den and out the door to hang itself. A smile played on her lips as she approached the still miffed brunette.

Sure hands slid around her hips and a moment later Hermione was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth as strong arms crossed over her stomach and Minerva's front moulded into her back. She knew that Minerva was trying to distract her from thinking too much about their conversation with the Weasleys and while she relished the contact she couldn't decide if she wanted to resist or not.

True to her animal form, the animagus liked to play dirty and use whatever advantage was at her disposal. On her current mission the prime advantage she was banking on was the fact that the brunette witch in her arms could be easily distracted by her purring. As her lips found the silky soft skin of the younger woman's neck she started the happy vibrations, just loud enough for the other witch to hear.

Hermione closed her eyes in absolute contentment, the marvellous feeling of familiar lips massaging the side of her throat combined with the delicious sound of purring instantaneously commanded all of her attention. She did vaguely notice that her lover had turned her around in her arms and was now pressing their fronts together which only served to thicken the soft haze that was slowly settling over her mind.

Minerva moved her lips further up, nuzzling the brunette witch's temple with her nose before kissing the soft spot behind her ear, at which point she slyly started purring louder, aiming at drowning out every last thought that did not revolve around what they were doing.

Later Hermione would admit that the plan had been quite a well-founded one but then the one thing happened that Minerva had not counted on. A sudden beeping noise broke the intimate atmosphere which caused the brunette witch to snap her eyes open and the animagus to grab her wand instinctively, annoyed green eyes searching for the source of the intrusion.

Seeing the older woman's defensive movement, Hermione laid a hand on her arm to reassure her. "It's only the baby monitor, Rose probably woke up." She said with a smile. The younger witch slid her hand down the arm she'd grabbed and wrapped her fingers around an elegant hand to pull her lover along towards Rose's room.

* * *

The ginger haired little girl learned to express her displeasure at her two main discomforts, hunger and wet nappies, rather loudly in the week she'd been in the world so it was not a surprise to either witch when not long after the baby monitor's signal Rose started wailing. Now fed and clean, she was more content but would not quite settle back down to sleep despite her younger mother's best efforts.

"Why don't I give it a try?" Minerva whispered into Hermione's ear from her vantage point, perched on the armrest of the comfy chair the younger witch was occupying. At first she was content to just watch the two most important women in her life, smiling tenderly as her gaze shifted back and forth between them but she soon noticed that the brunette looked rather tired so she came to her rescue.

Hermione gently passed a fidgeting Rose into Minerva's waiting arms, smirking when the Scottish woman unfailingly started singing her favourite lullaby. It was a slow and melancholy song and the Gaelic words made it sound very exotic. Despite being unable to sing the words, it quickly got stuck in her head and Hermione began to hum it in tune with Minerva. It wasn't much of a surprise when Rose quieted down after only a few minutes, albeit not yet dozing off completely. Minerva's lullaby seemed to do wonders.

"I wish I could sing her this song too..." Hermione whispered "She drops like a rock almost instantly whenever you do."

The animagus smiled obligingly and started the song anew, but to the brunette's surprise she started singing the oddly familiar lyrics in English. _"Hush, child, The darkness will rise from the deep, And carry you down into sleep"_

Hermione frowned, her brows knitting together in concentration as she tried to figure out why the English version was so incredibly from the fact that she'd heard Minerva sing it hundreds of times in Gaelic she suddenly had a vague impression that she'd come across these words before.

 _"Child, the darkness will rise from the deep, And carry you down into sleep"_ Minerva sang, for the moment oblivious to Hermione's preoccupation.

 _"Guileless love,_  
 _I'll shape your belief_  
 _And you'll always know that dangers are brief_  
 _And you won't be exposed to causes of grief_  
 _And you'll always follow our voices beneath_

 _Love unto Love unto Love unto Love unto_  
 _Love unto Love unto Love unto only to thee_

 _Guileless babe,_  
 _Your spirit will love her_  
 _The flower who married your mother, my saviour_  
 _And you will be raised to Gryffindor behaviour_  
 _For you are the fruit of our love for the other_

 _Love unto Love unto Love unto Love unto_  
 _Love unto Love unto Love unto only to thee_

 _Hush, child_  
 _The darkness will rise from the deep_  
 _And carry you down into sleep_  
 _Child, the darkness will rise from the deep_  
 _And carry you down into sleep_

 _Love unto Love unto Love unto Love unto_  
 _Love unto Love unto Love unto only to thee_

 _Guileless Rose,_  
 _Each day you grow older_  
 _Each moment I'm watching your future unfold_  
 _For the child of my body, the flesh of my soul_  
 _Will thrive in the nurturing birthright we hold_

 _Love unto Love unto Love unto Love unto_  
 _Love unto Love unto Love unto only to thee_

 _Hush, child_  
 _The darkness will rise from the deep_  
 _And carry you down into sleep_  
 _Child, the darkness will rise from the deep_  
 _And carry you down into sleep"*_

* * *

 _Next day, near apparition point in muggle London_

Most muggles walked past the two women idly standing on a street corner in central London without a second thought. To all appearances the pair was seemingly engaged in basking in the warm sunlight during their morning stroll with the babe peacefully napping in the pram between them. Others who had noticed them despite the rush of their lives glanced at them, as the pair would later discuss, with a variety of thoughts gleaming in their eyes, ranging between kindness and suspicious judgement. Most undoubtedly thought that the dark haired older woman was the brunette's older relative, mother or aunt perhaps, and the child must have been the result of the younger woman's bedtime activities with a man who was clearly not present. The two witches would later agree over their morning tea that given their muggle status and the limited ways in which they could conceive children, they could be forgiven for such narrow-minded thinking.

In that precise moment, however, neither witches were in a state that was even remotely related to relaxed basking. Hermione was surreptitiously glancing around every minute or so as if she were waiting for someone, a pleasant smile that never quite reached her eyes plastered on her face for show. Her partner, while better at masking her facial expressions, had both her hands deep in the pockets of the muggle jacket she was wearing, her right hand clenching and unclenching around her wand that was concealed in the sleeve of said garment. While it had been a good eight years since the war and all known renegade dark wizards were dead or in Azkaban, a lifetime's habit was hard to kick, especially in an environment where she was forced to keep her magic to a minimum. Minerva McGonagall was uncharacteristically nervous.

"Do you think they won't come?" Hermione asked, nerves stretched equally taut, albeit for slightly different reasons. The younger witch was naturally more comfortable in a muggle environment, which she not only had plenty of more experience blending into, but her intimate knowledge of their surroundings also gave her advantage in using magic without muggles suspecting anything. No, Hermione was nervous because the mystery of their daughter's inexplicable hair colour, and the implied conclusions most people drew infuriated her.

"I highly doubt that, dearest." Minerva replied without hesitation. "While Molly was absolutely livid at first, she DID agree in the end. I've known her for almost all of her life and she is not one to break a promise."

The younger witch let out a frustrated sigh which to the unenlightened observer might have looked like a petulant huff of protest. "Right. Yeah, you're right, Minerva." She said, her voice strained with emotion. "It's just... the bloody prophet article this morning got to me. I'm sure they've read it too and I'm worried what they'll think." She admitted.

It was very rate for Hermione to swear which gave the animagus an inkling of just how frustrated her partner must be. Keenly aware of their exposed location and having a good working idea of what the passing muggles perceived them to be she moved fractionally closer, attempting to balance comforting her lover and not drawing unwanted attention to themselves.

She leaned in to whisper into Hermione's ear and subtly slid a hand over the brunette's lower back, knowing that their backs were not exposed to spying eyes. "They'll most likely think that Rita Skeeter is a vile... bitch for insinuating that you were having a liaison with Ronald behind my back. In fact, I expect Molly had already sent her a scathing howler." She said, mirth lacing her voice as she remembered the numerous howlers the witch in question had sent to her children over the years.

Hermione involuntarily giggled at the thought, remembering one howler in particular that was sent to her poor friend in their second year. Molly did have her way with howlers, she remembered quite vividly how embarrassed **she** was by mere association when Ronald opened his letter. Imagining Rita Skeeter opening the Weasley matriarch's howler, or better yet waiting for it to explode in her face, served exactly as Minerva had intended it and Hermione visibly relaxed.

"Thank you, Minerva, I needed that." She whispered in return, grateful happiness momentarily finding its way to her eyes.

"I know. That's why I said it." Minerva replied, grinning wickedly.

"Gosh, I could kiss you right now. But I'm afraid we'd scandalize these poor muggles around us." Hermione said, an impish grin forming on her beautiful features. "Although, I have half the mind to not care..." She added almost as an afterthought, inching a fraction closer to the older woman, dangerously balancing on the border of appearing highly inappropriate for their expected relationship status.

"And I have half the mind to encourage you..." Minerva said, trailing off. Her own impish side getting the better of her, she started softly purring, just loud enough for Hermione to hear.

The brunette closed her eyes involuntarily, basking in the wonderful sound. The animagus' ability to purr was by far the most intensive turn on for her which meant she reflexively had to grip the handle of the pram tighter as a shiver ran down her spine, igniting a pleasant warmness in her lower abdomen. "Evil witch." She breathed huskily, not daring to open her eyes lest she should be confronted with the too close proximity of emerald ones staring back at her. Suddenly Hermione felt that her otherwise mighty resolve would pitifully crack and she'd snog the older witch right there on the spot.

"Khm." The sound of a throat being cleared close by broke the trance of their moment of intimacy. Minerva's eyes snapped up to find the source of the offending noise, murder thundering in her emerald green orbs at the intrusion only to soften and morph into slight embarrassment when she spotted two familiar faces standing not far from them. The fact that they'd managed to come that close without Minerva's sensitive hearing picking up on it was testament to how much of a distraction Hermione's close proximity could be to her.

The younger witch in question took a moment to compose herself, her mind oscillating between shaking the remaining dregs of her suddenly doused passion and shaking herself from the stupor of embarrassment at being caught in an intimate moment by the Weasleys. "Good morning Molly, Arthur." She croaked finally, her voice not exactly willing to function just yet.

Molly, who hitherto had an indulgent smile and a rather knowing look plastered on her face, turned unpleasantly serious. "Morning to you too." She said. "I trust there have been better ones. Have you seen the prophet this morning?" The ginger haired witch asked, bristling at the mere mention of the newspaper.

"I'm afraid we have, Molly." Minerva replied in a clipped tone that implied an equal amount of annoyance. "I expect you've already dispatched an appropriate reply to the prophet about their abysmally atrocious accusations?" she asked, her accent becoming thicker as she allowed her temper to rise for just a moment.

While none of the present company was unaccustomed to Minerva's penchant for alliterative expressions, her prowess in coming up with a unique combination of expressions that suited the situation perfectly never failed to amaze them. Arthur's expression belied the repressed mirth he was trying to control, the corner of his thinly pressed lips twitching in an attempt to not burst out laughing at Minerva's choice of words. He understood his wife's dire need to defend her youngest son, who was constantly hounded by the press, for they somewhat mirrored his own. However, the difference between them was that Arthur, lacking motherly instincts with which to smother his child, wished to allow his son more room to defend himself as he saw fit.

Molly merely raised an eyebrow at Minerva's choice of expressions before replying in the affirmative. "If you're asking if I've sent that foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach a scorching howler, then, yes, I certainly have. Such disgusting allegations..." Molly was about to launch into a tirade of rarely seen proportions but the shockingly unexpected sound of Hermione bursting out laughing stopped her dead in her tracks.

Minerva of course knew that the spineless reporter's unregistered animagus form was a cockroach, for Hermione had shared the information with her some time ago. This was something, she guessed by her behaviour, she had not done with Molly. However, she still stood surprised, for the hysterical laughter now bubbling from her lover's lips seemed quite out of place. _'There must be something more I'm not aware of...'_ The **registered** animagus made a mental note to ask later.

"What's so darn funny?" A voice asked from behind the witches as their party suddenly expanded with the arrival of an unexpected wizard.

"Ronald?" Hermione asked, laugher dying on her lips so quickly as if it had never been there. After what the Prophet had written, the shock of seeing him of all people in muggle London, on their way to test his father's DNA against Rose's sobered her up almost like magic.

"Well of course it's me, 'Mione." Ron replied, tone flat, one eyebrow raised. Years of working as an Auror was rubbing off on him, including on his mannerisms, but he unfailingly reverted back to old habits whenever his path crossed Hermione's, particularly when Harry was present as well, which, unsurprisingly, happened quite often. "Who'd you expect after the morning paper? Malfoy?" He asked, somewhat exasperated due to the havoc the article was wrecking on his personal life.

Mentioning the blond wizard's name, from Ron himself, just moments after Molly's choice of words was too much for the brunette witch and she doubled over laughing again. Later she would blame the uncharacteristic behaviour on her raging hormones, but for the time being all she could do was clutch at her sides as she desperately tried to regain some measure of control over her breathing. Having lost the ability to stand upright she relied on Minerva, who currently had both of her arms wrapped around her, to help steady her as she broke into yet another fit of hysterical laughter.

"What is so darn funny?" Ron asked again, ears turning pink as he looked around expectantly, impatiently waiting for someone to explain the situation.

Much to his escalating annoyance everyone just stood there, confusion written across their features as they all stared as the brains of the golden trio attempted to not suffocate from laughing. His parents' jaws were slack as they shared a glance, confirming the other's utter confusion, while Minerva helplessly stood beside Hermione, one hand caressing the brunette's back in a vain effort to calm her down.

"Sh..she...ahahaha...your mum..." Hermione tried to say between fits of laugher, weakly attempting to stand straight but thinking of the words made her double up in laughter again. "Oh...ahaha...can't breathe... your mothe... called... Rita..." Hermione couldn't finish the sentence as she struggled to breath through her fit, at this point laughing more at the ridiculousness of her inability to stop laughing than anything else.

"What'd you call that bitch, mum?" Ron asked, turning to his mother. He did not even bother correcting his language as Molly did not seem bothered much either.

"I called her as I see her!" Molly said in a strangled voice, her tone a mixture of confusion and angry defiance. "I foul loathsome evil little cockroach is what she is!" Molly verbatim repeated her earlier words.

If it would have been possible the young ginger haired wizard's eyes would have jumped right out of his face upon hearing the words his mother had spoken. In a fraction of a moment his eyes met the chocolate brown eyes of the brunette witch who by now started crying from laughing so much, desperately clinging to Minerva for support. The moment their eyes connected, the two confirmed that they were indeed both thinking of Hermione's outburst a moment before she punched Malfoy in the face. That, the knowledge of Skeeter's animagus form and the implications of his own words just moments ago forced Ron to erupt in a similar belly laugh.

* * *

The three oldest of the company stared at one another in amazed befuddlement. When Ron was launched into his own hysterical laughing fit Hermione dislodged herself from Minerva's embrace and stumbled over to Ronald, the two first clinging to one another but soon they had to lean against the wall for support only to eventually slide down into a crumpled heap, still laughing in a half-embrace. The words 'Malfoy', 'foul' and 'cockroach' could occasionally be heard gasped by either of them which served to renew their vigorous fit, albeit seemingly to a lesser degree as time passed.

The animagus, fighting a momentary pang of jealousy over their shared bond, one from which not only the elder Weasleys but she herself was clearly excluded, chanced a glance at Molly and Arthur who were nervously glancing around in return. "I expect you are just as confused as I am?" Molly managed to ask in a relatively even tone.

"Quite!" Minerva quipped. She adjusted Rose in her arms, who, while miraculously sleeping through Hermione's original fit, woke up and started wailing when the ginger haired wizard joined in.

"How do you reckon we should break it up... if at all possible?" Arthur wondered aloud.

"They do seem to be winding down on their own..." Minerva observed. "I've put up a Muggle-Repelling Charm and a Silencing charm just in case. No need to cause a commotion." The animagus said in her best no nonsense tone.

They started chatting idly as they waited for the two to stop behaving like a couple of crazy clowns.

* * *

TBC

 _So what do you think?_ _ **PLEASE REVIEW!**_

* * *

 **Slight spoiler starting at this point:**

 _N.b. The song was not randomly selected by googling Gaelic lullaby or anything, it will have a role in the plot development. I'm fairly confident that my saying so betrays some of the plot but y'all are welcome to guess the finer details of what I might have planned. I always enjoy it very much :)_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And the plot thickens. So much longer than 3 chapters. My guess is another 2 or 3 and then I swear I am going to continue with Save me from me. Meanwhile, I leave this offering, I hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

Sins of the Past

Chapter 6

* * *

The whitewashed room was eerily quiet despite the large number of people currently occupying it. The only sound that could be heard was the frantic scratching noise made by pen on paper as the muggle doctor made a couple of notes, clearly lost in thought. Since the host was too engrossed in her thoughts to notice the heavy energy of unease that settled into the room the occupants tried to occupy themselves with their surroundings. However, that too proved slightly lacking. Not only the walls but all the furniture and the instruments were white as well, giving the interior the illusion of being much more spacious than it actually was.

Upon entering, Minerva thought that the room was uncomfortably sterile and she made a mental note to ask her lover after this appointment if all muggle health institutions were quite as unfriendly as this one. _'Merlin, I can see why muggles dread going to their so called doctors...'_

Hermione amused herself by watching the elder Weasleys, who in that exact moment, despite being the perfect couple in her head, couldn't be farther away from each other in terms of their reactions. Arthur was clearly excited and his eyes dashed around, trying to take the whole place in at once. The brunette witch also had a hunch that the man was probably bursting with all sorts of questions the poor doctor was absolutely not prepared for, which Hermione was oddly looking forward to. In comparison, Molly looked positively suspicious, her eyes slowly taking in her surroundings, probably mentally dissecting each item and guessing about their uses. The younger witch couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was that she could see but she was certain it was not flat out disapproval. She knew that Molly was not at all bigoted like that but her expression betrayed a measure of uncertainty that belied exactly how alien she felt in the muggle world.

"Yes, well, lets begin then." The voice breaking the near silence in the room was so sudden that all the magical people in the room jumped in surprise.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the blond muggle doctor stood from her desk which Hermione took as her cue to help ease the tension.

"Dr. Peterson, again, thank you so much for having us." Hermione said with an engaging smile, hoping to draw attention to herself. "I understand it was very short notice but we are all very keen to shed light on possible secrets in my daughter's heritage."

The doctor focused her attention on her, sharp eyes darting across her features as if she were seizing her up. Hermione wouldn't say that it was an unfriendly look but it was very...exact, as if the woman tolerated no nonsense, particularly on her time. _'Hmpf...that's fine in my book.'_ The brunette witch thought, suddenly realizing that she liked the muggle doctor because she reminded her of Minerva. A moment later the strict look gave way to a small half smile which the young witch noted with some relief, suddenly hopeful that this appointment wasn't going to be quite as stressful as she feared. She loved Minerva to bits but two of her in the same room with a handful of stressed out magical folk could potentially prove disasterous.

"Of course. I quite understand." The woman replied kindly, a hint of interest warming her eyes. "I have to admit I was vastly intrigued by your case." She said, excitement vaguely colouring her voice. Then she abruptly turned to Arthur who was listening to the polite chatter with interest. "Arthur, is it? If you could sit on the edge of the examination bed I'll take your samples." She said, pointing at the white bed that stood right next to the wall.

"Excuse me, but could you explain what exactly you mean by taking samples? Samples of what?" This came from Molly, who looked quite concerned, the polar opposite of a gleefully excited Arthur. "This isn't going to involve any of your so called stitches, is it?"

Dr. Peterson's eyes widened in surprise at the odd question, not knowing where to put it at first. A few moments later everyone looking at her could see the transformation in her features from perplexed to knowing as understanding suddenly dawned on her. "Ah, yes, Mrs. Weasley, is it?" Dr. Peterson hazarded a guess "Hermione mentioned over the phone that you might be somewhat apprehensive of muggle medical procedures. If you were on the receiving end of badly done stitches I am not too surprised I guess." She said, donning a kind expression that Hermione figured might have been part of the doctor's bedside manner kit. "Mrs. Weasley, I can promise that I will not be doing anything invasive that you'd need to be concerned about. I am only going to take some blood, saliva, skin and hair samples from Arthur."

"How do you intend to take his blood? And why do you need it?" Molly asked, her voice so thick with suspicion Minerva had to struggle to keep a snort from erupting from her nostrils. The Animagus was quite sure that the Weasley matriarch was already imagining blood rituals inside her head.

"Blood contains vital information for us scientists. It's one of the best sources of DNA, which are essentially the building blocks of our body." Dr. Peterson explained patiently, going into lecture mode as seamlessly as if she were used to doing it on a daily basis. "I am going to take samples from Arthur, Hermione and..." she consulted her notes for a moment, "Minerva" She said, making eye contact with the only other female in the room, nodding in acknowledgement "and cross-examine each of them to see if there might be any familial links between any of you."

"Why not take samples from Ron and myself?" Molly persisted.

"Since we have Arthur's DNA, Molly, Ronald's would be redundant as whatever genes his DNA would show up would most likely show up from Arthur's sample." Hermione said, cutting into the conversation. "And... we are guessing that if there is a connection between your family and either Minerva or myself it is going to be someone from prior generations, so Arthur's samples would be a better match. Good point about you though, come to think of it." She said and then turned to Dr. Peterson. "Could we expand the list by one other person, please? Unless of course it would take up far too much of your time, we wouldn't want to be a burden."

"Nonsense, Hermione. I wouldn't have agreed to it if I had thought that it was a burden." She replied in a cheerful tone. "Like I said, it's a very intriguing case. It's just a blasted shame, excuse my language, that I cannot publish any of it." The doctor said with feeling. It was quite clear to everyone in the room that she truly was upset about not being allowed to publish her research results. "Alas, I understand the necessity, but it really is a shame you people have to be so secretive around muggles."

"We people? Muggles?" Ronald asked, suddenly alarmed. He hadn't spoken a single word since they'd arrived, content to read his muggle newspaper while they waited and then too curious about where the conversation was going to want to interrupt up until that point.

"Dr. Peterson knows about the wizarding world. Her sister is Amanda Abbott, whom you might know as she works in the Ministry." Hermione cut in hastily again. _'God, this is more difficult than I anticipated.'_ To her relief, the fact that the muggle doctor had a wizarding relative seemed to soothe some of the anxieties as both Molly and Ron visibly relaxed.

"Indeed. Shall we then? I'll just get the syringes."

* * *

 _Much later at Hermione's apartment..._

"Today was...eventful." Hermione said after she crashed on the sofa next to Minerva. They had just finished putting Rose to sleep and finally had a few hours to themselves. At least until Rose woke up again. The little witch was barely two weeks old and the brains of the golden trio was already learning to appreciate quiet time. She smirked to herself at the notion, remembering how she protested that it wouldn't be like that. _'It's such a shame that I am so damn exhausted though...'_

"That it was." The Animagus agreed, automatically moving closer to her lover as she settled into her side. She wrapped an arm around the younger woman, pulling her closer. Without even realizing what she was doing she started humming a familiar tune.

Hermione only raised an eyebrow at first, then chuckled softly, figuring that after having sung it to Rose so many times Minerva probably automatically started singing the song now as a form self-comforting.

The soft giggles of her lover alerted the older witch's attention that something was amiss and after a moment she caught on and realized that she'd been singing. "Ah, my dear, this song is becoming second nature to me."

"It's so familiar for some reason... where could I have heard it? Other than from you?" The younger witch asked. She shifted her position from sitting beside Minerva to lying on her back and resting her head on the Animagus' thigh.

Minerva pursed her lips, lost in thought for a moment. "I am not sure, dearest. I'm told this song has been in my family for centuries. I would not be surprised if some form or another made it into muggle culture."

It had taken Hermione a few moments to soak in what Minerva had said but then her eyes widened as an idea formed in her head. She surprised the animagus when she flexed her stomach muscles to gain momentum from zero and rolled off of the woman's lap, landing less than gracefully on the carpet on all four before springing up to retrieve her laptop.

"What's that? Is that your... lamb top computer device?" Minerva asked, eyeing the thin square box with interest. It had been the newest addition to the young witch's collection of muggle artefacts. Since Hermione liked using muggle technological devices when she was in the flat in muggle London, Minerva made efforts to learn what they were for. Names, however, mostly eluded her. _'Muggles have such a confounded odd way of naming things...'_

"Almost. Yes, it's a computer but it's called a laptop, not lamb top." Hermione corrected gently as she sat down next to the dark haired witch. "It's called a laptop because instead of sitting at a desk to use it, you can sit anywhere and the computer goes on top of your lap, like this." She brunette said, demonstrating where to put the machine.

Minerva nodded in understanding before glancing vaguely in the direction where she knew Hermione's study was, thinking of the other machine the brunette stored there. "So...the computer device currently under your desk would be an underdesk?" She asked, hoping she got the muggle naming convention right.

Hermione managed to swallow most of her laugher but Minerva's assessment was such a surprise to her that she still ended up making an oddly strangled sound in the back of her throat. "Yes, well. You've got the general idea quite well, but it's actually called a deskTOP."

"But why?" Minerva asked in an exasperated tone. She was trying to hard to understand muggles but whenever she thought she was making progress they just up and did something completely illogical.

"Um, I think it's because they used to keep the computers ON the desks...and then some bright person realized that if they just made desks where you can fit it under you have more space." Hermione said, grinning at Minerva's incredulous expression. "Muggles also have an odd fascination with binaries. Black and white, life and death, LAPtop and DESKtop. It's easer to remember this way so the name stuck."

"Hmpf," the Animagus huffed, turning her attention to the suddenly brightly flashing screen. "So why do you need your laptop?"

"I'm going to Google the lyrics of the song." The brunette witch said absently as she started working her muggle magic on the device.

"Excuse me?" Minerva said, dumbfounded at the fact she had absolutely no idea what the younger witch just said. "What do goggles have to do with my ancestral lullaby and how on Earth do you even fit one in there?"

Hermione snickered to herself, retracing her steps to show them to the Scottish witch more slowly. Minerva was one of the most intelligent and sharp witted people she had ever met which made her lack of muggle knowledge all the more endearing. In the five years they had been together the dark haired witch learned to use the telephone, ride a bike and even how to use the public transport system without causing some sort of a scene, but most technological gadgets were completely beyond her. And still she tried, stubborn and determined to understand everything Hermione thought was worthwhile to use or do. Just thinking about it made the younger woman fall in love with the Scottish witch all over again.

"Sorry love, I sometimes forget that I need to explain things differently." Hermione finally said, managing a sheepish sideways glance, which was decidedly difficult with the amount of mirth still shining in her brown eyes. "So... let's start from the beginning. You remember, I said that muggles invented a network that connects all computers to one another so we can share information more effectively? Um... imagine if you could sit at Hogwarts comfortably doing research and upon request any book from any city or country would magically materialize on your desk."

"Yes, yes, that still sounds really useful!" Minerva said excitedly. Half the hassle of doing research was hunting down journals or books that were not available either at Hogwarts or in Minerva's private library. Granted, it did not happen often to the Animagus, but all the more annoying when it did.

"Yeah. So now muggles keep a lot of things available on this network, it's called the Internet by the way, including song lyrics. If I've heard your lullaby in something muggle it's going to be on the internet." Hermione said, opening her browser.

"And the goggles?" Minerva asked, peering at the screen that popped up after Hermione did something.

"It's Google, not goggle, see?" Hermione said, bringing up the search engine. "It's kind of like a library catalogue, you type in what you want and it searches for it." The brunette witch typed in the refrain of the song which was the only part she remembered and was rewarded with quite a few hits. Some of the top finds appeared to be videos so Hermione clicked on one of them to listen. To her astonishment a beautiful female voice started humming the familiar tune of Minerva's lullaby.

"Oh we found it!" The younger witch said excitedly. "It's called Mordred's lullaby..Mordred...Mordred... wasn't he...?" She said, racking her brain to pinpoint the familiar name.

"He was the son of Morgana." Minerva said, her voice suddenly blank. Hermione turned to face her lover whose facial expressions were an odd mixture of seriousness and confusion.

"Morgana? THE Morgana? Le Fay, from the Arthurian legends?" Hermione asked in disbelief. _'Is Minerva related to Morgana?'_

To the younger witch's surprise, Minerva's eyes flashed in annoyance and the older woman straightened her back, sitting slightly more upright on the sofa. Hermione knew this pose, it was Minerva's way of preparing for a potential fight or uncomfortable conversation. What the bright young witch didn't know was why Morgana would cause such a reaction in Minerva.

"I do wish muggle born witches and wizards stopped referring to her like that." Minerva huffed, clearly upset. "She was much more than just King Arthur's sister and downfall. She has a whole history before her brother came to any sort of prominence."

The fact that Minerva had just made a vastly generalizing statement based on blood status made Hermione start, the first tendrils of anger beginning to tug at her reason. But it had also been so uncharacteristic of the Animagus that it also made Hermione think too hard about it, which allowed her to stay calm, as hard thoughts were never good nourishment for her anger. "Are you saying that people born into wizarding families _never_ refer to Morgana as King Arthur's sister?"

The moment Hermione phrased it like that Minerva realized how unfortunate her choice of wording had been. Her features softened perceptibly as her annoyance ebbed away to be replaced by embarrassment and she took one of the brunette's hands in hers and squeezed it emphatically. "I'm sorry dearest, that came out wrong. To answer your question, yes and no. We have such richly detailed information about her life, so many stories to tell our children that most of them know about her quite separately from King Arthur." Minerva explained, then almost as an afterthought added "I believe an article was once written about the vast differences in how the witches and wizards connected to King Arthur were portrayed in wizarding and muggle societies."

The Animagus' explanation effectively placated the younger witch, who briefly smiled at the prospect of diving into something that she appears to have only had a one-sided account of. However, her smile vanished as her thoughts wandered back to the legendary witch and the lullaby that started this discussion in the first place.

"But...wasn't she a dark witch?" Hermione asked, treading softly with her line of questioning. She had a wild idea but didn't want to spin conspiracy theories and especially not ones that could hurt Minerva's feelings.

"Well, yes, in her late life she did dabble in the dark arts too much, notably after her fallout with King Arthur, but part of the rich lore I was referring to remembers her as one of the most gifted healers of British wizarding history." Minerva said, slipping into lecture mode.

"Minerva..." Hermione said carefully "your ancestral lullaby made it into muggle culture as part of Morgana's legacy... do you suppose you could be related to her?"

* * *

TBC

So what do you think so far, what the heck might I be up to? **Please feed the author, I thrive on reviews! :)**

A/N: I know there are a lot of different traditions to approaching the Arthurian legends but bear with me, I'm making some alterations and quite possibly adding bits here and there. Generally speaking my starting point for Morgana is one of the more modern interpretations that merge Morgana's and Morgause's character so Mordred becomes Morgana's son rather than her nephew.


	7. Chapter 7

Sins of the Past

Chapter 7

Papers with scribbled notes and hastily sketched family trees were strewn across every available surface in the tiny study, with a relatively clear path that lead from the door to the centre of the room currently occupied by a certain brown eyed witch. The brunette had gone into research several days ago and refused to surface except for meals, which Minerva had to blackmail her into, or when she had the occasional question to grill said Animagus about.

* * *

Minerva knew Hermione had her bouts of almost manic zeal when it came to research so it really was no surprise to her, despite the ludicrousness of the whole affair. _'I dare say I would know if I had been related to Morgana of all people.'_ The Animagus huffed to herself idly as she made tea.

She secretly relished these past few days as she got to spend so much time with Rose. It was the deal she made with her lover. If she was willing to come out of her cave to eat and sleep properly she'd completely take over caring for Rose, including getting up at all hours of the night so the younger witch could sleep. The Scottish witch snickered to herself as a memory of the brunette grudgingly agreeing to Minerva's terms came to her mind. Little did Hermione know that Minerva would have done the same even if she refused to eat and sleep properly. Being Headmistress meant that the ebony haired witch was expected back at Hogwarts in a few days and she'd have very little time to spend with her family for the next nine months.

 _'Family...'_ The word warmed Minerva's heart and soul and she smiled fondly as she poured just the right amount of honey into Hermione's tea. After Elph had died about two decades ago she all but gave up on having a family of her own, sating her motherly instincts by caring for her cubs as Head of House instead. And then came Hermione, brightest witch of her age. Her relationship with the stunning siren came completely out of the blue some five years ago. The younger witch had the guts to ask her out on a date and much to both of their surprise, she said yes.

The older woman expected perhaps a few pleasant evenings in the company of the startlingly intelligent witch before they realized that their lives were headed in the opposite direction, but to her pleasure, she got the last five years out of it instead. _'And what five years they've been... sure, there were the occasional fights, mostly about inconsequential annoyances that rubbed us the wrong way but other than that...'_ Minerva mused.

She was jolted from her musings by the rapping sound of a hard object repeatedly colliding with glass. Glancing in the direction of the nearest window, she saw that it was an owl. As recognition hit her a moment later, her heart suddenly skipped a beat. It was no ordinary delivery owl, but the tawny they had left at the muggle doctor's office several days ago, now carrying a distinctly muggle-looking envelope in its beak.

Tea completely forgotten, the Animagus went to the window to retrieve the letter she presumed would shed light on the curious hair colour of their child. The owl let go of the letter as soon as Minerva touched it and the dark haired witch felt that it was quite heavy, as if more than a single sheet of paper was stuffed inside. Automatically summoning refreshments for the animal she left the the kitchen, leaving tea and window untouched.

* * *

Hermione was so deep in thought that she had not heard her lover enter the room at first. She was poring over a massive volume of magical history in an attempt to cross-check the validity of several leads she found in an annotated bibliography of medieval witches and wizards. Her hair was tied back in a loose and messy ponytail, which not only had the added benefit of garnering Minerva's approval, but also proved to be quite useful when the brunette needed to focus.

"Hermione", Minerva said, the second time a bit louder than the first. Her voice finally penetrated the younger woman's concentration and she jumped slightly, not expecting the sound.

As the brunette's eyes fell on the Animagus standing in the doorway, all thoughts of tea and medieval witches were wiped from her mind. The older witch looked positively ashen, her eyes wide and her posture exuded anxiety. Hermione noticed that she had a death grip on the doorknob and she appeared to be clutching a muggle envelope in the other hand. Her eyes visibly widened in response, then snapped up to meet emerald orbs in search of answers to questions she had not yet asked.

"I think it's the test results. I haven't opened it yet. Arthur and Molly will be here any minute." Minerva answered before Hermione could take a breath to speak.

* * *

The pair sat on the sofa anxiously, waiting for the Weasleys to arrive. Minerva had fire called them before telling Hermione, requesting them to come a few minutes later so they could have a moment to themselves.

The younger witch wanted to tear into the envelope the moment she jumped up from her cross-legged sitting position, but Minerva talked her into waiting. Even though Hermione's argument that she'll be the one to have to translate it to them was sound she wanted to wait for them. For all intents and purposes they might be welcoming not one but at least three people into their family.

The fireplace finally roared to life and two sooty heads emerged from green flames not a moment later. Arthur and Molly all but dropped everything they were occupied with when Minerva's news reached them but tactfully agreed to waiting for a while before coming. Although the implications of these muggle test results might be astronomical for them they understood that it would be twice so for either witch.

"Hello, Minerva, Hermione", they both said as they banished the soot from themselves. Having known each other for decades they knew there was no need for pleasantries at this moment. "So, have you opened it? What does it say?" Molly asked, halfway between anxious and excited.

"No, we were waiting for you", Hermione said, glancing in Minerva's direction. "Although if I had had my way I would have opened it already... I expect I shall have to explain what most of what it means anyway. I wanted to get a head start."

"Dearest, you're babbling", the Animagus said gently, not holding the brunette's annoyance against her in the least. "Why don't we just open it? Molly, Arthur, come sit with us."

* * *

Most of the papers crammed into the envelope were diagrams and tables with numbers and only a single sheet of paper contained words that at least one of the room's occupants could understand. One side of the paper appeared to be a description of how to decipher the attached data, which Hermione vaguely scanned over before turning the piece of paper over. Only half of it was covered in print and a single sentence scribbled under it in cursive. **Come to the laboratory any time today or tomorrow if you need help with this.**

Hermione gave each of them a paper to look at just so they would occupy themselves for a few minutes instead of asking her three times a minute if she'd found the important bits yet.

"Bloody hell..." She muttered unconsciously when she finally finished reading the summary.

"What?" "What is it", came the questions instantaneously. All three abandoned the indecipherable tables of numbers and trained their eyes on the young witch who stared at the sheet of paper, jaw slack, eyes unblinking.

Hermione was jolted from her racing thoughts for the second time that day, this time by a hand gently laid on her shoulder. The startled witch raised her eyes to look into concerned greens but was unable to utter a single word. Her throat worked convulsively as she tried to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in her throat but it would not budge.

Seeing how shock had frozen her lover the dark haired witch gently pried the piece of paper out of her hands and after adjusting her reading glasses peered at the printed words. She'd been making an effort to read more muggle material to practice reading their tiny printed letters. It was quite arduous work at first but it paid off quite well as Minerva developed a taste for muggle literature, particularly the genre muggles referred to as detective stories.

"What does it say, Minerva?" Molly asked, her voice anxious and frustrated.

"It says that Arthur and I are most likely second cousins, once removed", Hermione said, finally finding her voice.

"WHAT?" came from both Weasleys whose facial expressions now mirrored that of Hermione's from moments before.

"Apparently we share 1.5% of longer strings of DNA which Dr. Peterson said is long enough to establish a familial relationship. And she guessed that we are most likely second cousins, once removed but she would need samples from more relatives to validate this guess." Hermione explained and felt the shock slowly wearing off as she spoke the words aloud.

"So that would make Rose..." Arthur said, trailing off as he tried to work out the complex familial relationship.

"Our second cousin, twice removed!" Molly said, her voice cheering with obvious delight. Minerva smiled at Molly's choice of words which clearly indicated that she already considers Rose a part of her family, even if she's only related to her by marriage.

* * *

 _Next evening..._

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Hermione roared in anger, frustrated that Minerva so persistently pressed the issue despite her clear indication that she was not ready for it. They'd been arguing about this on and off for the better part of the day and she had finally reached a breaking point.

"Hermione, this is insane!" Minerva ground out, pushing each word through her teeth which were clenched in an effort to contain her own rising temper. "They're your parents! Don't you want them to know their grandchild?"

The Animagus was dismayed at the younger witch's steadfast rejection of the idea to look for her parents. This had been one of the more serious sources of conflict throughout their relationship but after the first few attempts Minerva resolved not to press it. For years she respected Hermione's uncharacteristically cowardly decision to hide from the fact that eventually she'd have to face her parents but when she got pregnant with Rose she brought it up again. That night was not one of Minerva's favourite memories.

"Yes, they're MY parents", Hermione snapped. "I think that means that I ought to decide when it's time to bring them home." Fear coiled nastily inside the pit of her stomach at the mere suggestion of tracking her parents and attempting to restore their memories. The normally brave young woman was simply petrified of the possibility that she might fail and permanently mangle her parents' psyches. The very notion that her parents might end up in an asylum due to her machinations was enough to send her into a frenzy whenever the topic was broached. _'Not that the alternative is much more appealing... I don't expect they'll be very pleased when they learn that their one and only daughter messed with their minds...'_

"And when do you expect that should be? When Rose is already an adult? What do you think your parents will say if they find they have a grandchild whose life they've all but missed?" Minerva asked, still attempting to reason with the brunette.

"I said, NO!" Hermione countered, to all appearances without really listening to what Minerva was saying. In reality she had listened all right, but Minerva's words stung far too much for her to be able to address them.

"Dearest, I know you are scared, I kn..." Minerva tried to soothe the younger witch but nothing she said seemed to be working.

"No you don't", Hermione cut in. "How could you know? YOU'VE never had to wipe your parents memories of you! You've never had to send them away for their own safety!" Hermione ranted.

The younger witch rarely gave way to such temper tantrums but when she did it was hell for Minerva. Having a fiendish temper of her own, she was not used to being the more reasonable party in a fight. Obviously it was entirely different with students, they were so much removed from her peerage and she was so deeply aware of her responsibility towards them that even their worst antics barely stirred her temper. _'Although that one time Longbottom lost the passwords...'_ Minerva thought as she fought to regain some measure of control over both her own temper as well as the situation. Hermione's words stung as they hit painful memories she had yet to share with the much younger witch.

"Don't go there, Hermione. You have not known me long enough to say that so confidently", Minerva said as evenly as she could. She took deep, calming breaths, something similar to what they had learned when they were preparing for Rose's birth.

The brunette witch had the grace to not verbally lash out again. Instead she started pacing up and down the length of the den, gesticulating wildly as she repeated her lack of intention to find her parents just yet.

"Hermione, they've a right to know their family. For Merlin's sake, one of them is related to one of the most prominent wizarding families in Britain!" Minerva tried to reason with Hermione. In truth, she only had vague guesses as to why the brains of the golden trio refused to bring her parents home but none of it truly made sense.

"So? Why is all this suddenly so important?" Hermione asked, uncharacteristically refusing to meet Minerva's arguments with a proper reply.

"It's always been important, Hermione, but I've chosen to back off for a while, hoping that you'll eventually find your courage..." Minerva replied matter-of-factly. She'd found that sometimes it helped if she jabbed at Hermione's pride because it propelled the younger witch into action.

"So why can't you back off now?"

"Because we've a daughter! Who has only ONE set of grandparents! But they're out there somewhere and I'll damned if I'll let her grow up without knowing them!" Minerva snapped back. She was losing the fight with her temper. The brunette witch was not normally this difficult but something about her parents was hitting a nerve she could not fathom.

"Well then damned you are, because I'LL be damned too if I'll bring something down on my parents they won't be able to face!" Hermione screamed, fear flooding her senses at the notion that Minerva would somehow force her to do it.

"Well if you won't, then I will" the Animagus countered, taking a step in Hermione's direction. Her intention was to approach the younger witch and plead with her in a last effort to somehow find her way around the maze Hermione had constructed around her issues. However, before she could take another step the brunette witch did the unthinkable and whipped her wand out.

"You will do no such thing, Minerva McGonagall!" Hermione yelled.

Minerva, relying on her animal instincts to know that the fight just escalated to an unmanageably dangerous level, froze in place. The whites of the brunette's eyes were showing too much for her comfort level, indicating that Hermione was about to snap. She'd later thank her fortune that she was a seasoned war veteran from the front lines, for it enabled her to not only react instinctively but to react well. She morphed into her Animagus form and bolted, jumping behind the arm chair farthest from Hermione's current position. When she morphed back into her human form she too had her wand out. But unlike Hermione's, hers was not trained on her partner, but merely held in her hand in case she needed protection.

However, when her human eyes focused back on the younger witch she saw that there would be no need to defend herself as her reaction cause Hermione to realize what she'd done. The brunette witch stared at her wand in shock, as if she did not understand how it materialized in her hand.

While Minerva was astonished at the turn of events, the adrenaline rush was enough to strip her of her own escalating anger. She rounded the furniture with uncanny calmness, her wand safely tucked back into the sleeve of her robe.

The movement caused Hermione to look up, disbelief and fear mingling in regretful brown orbs. "Minerva... I am so sor..", she tried to apologise but this time it was Minerva who cut in.

"Save it, Hermione", she said in her strictest no-nonsense tone. "I cannot believe that you have actually raised your wand against me", the Animagus whispered, stopping about two feet away from the brunette.

"I... I didn't...want this", Hermione stumbled over her words.

"Neither did I. Hermione... I am not sure why the question of your parents is hitting such a nerve with you, but what you did... this cannot be the answer", Minerva said evenly. If the younger witch had it in her to raise her wand against a loved one in anger she knew she had to make a precedent of not allowing it. "I shall remove myself to Hogwarts and I suggest that you revisit both your issues and your principles."

"Minerva, please... I didn't mean for this to happen! Don't, don't leave...me", Hermione whispered the last words, tears welling up in her eyes as the Animagus turned away from her. Her words fell on deaf ears and the older witch exited the den without so much a glance in her direction.

The Scottish witch returned but a few minutes later, apparently empty handed. She approached the brunette who had not moved from her spot since the jolting revelation that she had pulled her wand on her lover. "I love you, Hermione, but I will not raise a child in a home where it is commonplace for parents to pull their wands on one another", she said. "School starts in a few days and I need to prepare for the students' arrival. I'd suggest you use that time to think. And to decide how you want this to play out. I meant what I said Hermione. Neither your parents nor Rose deserves to be cut from each other's lives."

* * *

TBC

Please review! 270 people have visited this story in the last two weeks but so few reviews... I'm dying to know what you all are thinking!

A/N: I know this last scene sounds quite rash and somewhat OOC for Hermione, but the reason I chose to go with it was because she did display quite a fiery temper in DH when Ron finally returned and she would have pulled her wand at him if she had it.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry all for skipping a week, I had family stuff last weekend and then my week turned out to be too busy to finish sooner. I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

 **Sins of the Past**

 **Chapter 8**

* * *

Hermione blinked her eyes open groggily, and peered at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It showed 6.37 in venom green digital numbers. _'I guess that's a justifiable time to get up...'_ The last time she checked it was 5.12, meaning that she probably got a little more than an hour's worth of sleep. She hadn't bothered to close the curtains so she saw that the sky was a sickly grey that morning as if the weather itself chose to mirror Hermione's state of mind.

She willed her stone-like limbs to work and dragged her body from the bed which proved to be a far simpler task than to make her brain work again. For it was clearly broken, perpetually stuck in an endless loop of replaying those horrible minutes when she realized that she'd pulled her wand on Minerva. The hurt and shock in her lover's emerald green eyes before she morphed into a cat doused her anger like icy water, numbing and immobilizing her. No matter what she did, whether that be trying to contact the Animagus or caring for Rose, her mind constantly analysed and dissected those moments of inexplicable lapse in self-control. The only moment that even relatively compared was when she wanted to pull her wand on Ronald, the only hindrance being that Harry had been in possession of it. At that point she thought that she loved Ronald and the idiot had abandoned them. Threatening to hex him seemed at least somewhat justifiable. _'That and punching Malfoy... but that doesn't count. The git had it a long time coming.'_

The brunette witch had been uncharacteristically inefficient since their fight two days ago. Caring for Rose was mercifully automatic for her but she barely got anything else done, including caring for herself. After several minutes of standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring blankly into space, she finally decided that perhaps putting the kettle on for some tea would be a safe way to start her day.

It had been two days since their fight and Hermione was slowly falling to pieces. She'd only stopped crying moments ago, having broken down again after she'd attempted to soothe a moody and displeased Rose with Minerva's lullaby. She'd automatically started singing the song to her daughter but midway through the first verse tears started pooling in her eyes and her voice broke over the refrain. By the time she finished the song tears were freely flowing down her reddened cheeks and only her cast iron will had prevented her from sobbing loudly. She did not want to agitate Rose again, who, while she didn't look particularly content, drifted off to sleep at last. However, her motherly instincts could only take her so far and her will gave out the moment she closed Rose's bedroom door.

She'd tried contacting Minerva several times but silence was her only answer. The Animagus refused to acknowledge owls, patronuses and fire-calls alike leaving the younger witch with no other option but to attempt to talk to the woman personally. Had she been thinking logically she would have realized that she was being treated to the same silence she treated Minerva with when she stepped out of line but in her current state she failed to connect the dots.

* * *

 _Two days ago..._

Bright sunlight assaulted sensitive green eyes, forcing the Animagus to shield them with one hand as she squinted to identify her surroundings. She dearly wished that her beloved hat had been perched atop her head at that moment so that its brim might protect her eyes, but alas, muggle attire did not normally include wide brimmed, pointy hats. _'Or if only I had one of those... muggle sun protection glasses with me. I'm sure Hermione wouldn't have forgotten them...'_

As soon as her lover entered her mind Minerva felt her heart drop into her stomach. Leaving Hermione standing there so crestfallen had been one of the hardest things the Scottish witch ever had to do. The moment the incident was over she could see in soulful brown eyes that Hermione was not only shocked at her own lack of self-control but also deeply regretted it. Yet she could not allow it to go unaddressed and forgiving her immediately would have been just that. She trusted Hermione beyond the shadow of a doubt that she'd never do anything of the sort to Rose but finding herself facing the business end of Hermione's wand was only slightly less terrifying.

The ebony haired witch shook her head slightly as if she could literally shake the gloomy thoughts from her mind. She was sure that at least one letter asking to be met for an apology would be on her desk by the time she returned to Hogwarts and she would help Hermione work through her issue but for the time being she had other pressing matters. And she was, after all, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, she had to be able to compartmentalize her feelings.

Her eyes having more or less adjusted to the bright light, she squinted at the address on her parchment again before she peered at the nearby street sign. The Animagus sighed in resignation when she realized that she had not managed to apparate to the correct street. Turning around to take in her surroundings she spotted a muggle tending to his garden and briskly walked towards him intent on asking directions.

* * *

 _Current time..._

When Hermione stepped out of the fireplace she was mildly surprised to find Filius in Minerva's office but not Minerva herself.

"Good morning, Filius" she said.

The half-goblin deputy looked up at Hermione with surprise before he regained his composure. "And to you, Hermione. This is a surprise. What might I help you with?"

"I'm looking for Minerva. Have you seen her?" Hermione asked.

That was certainly not what the charms master had expected and he promptly put the stack of unanswered correspondence down before walking the short distance from the desk to the fireplace. All the while he studied the younger witch's face closely, noting the slightly red rims of her eyes and her general...discomposure.

"Excuse my asking, Hermione, but have you two had a fight?" he asked cautiously.

The brunette witch's brows furrowed in response at first then arched questioningly. "Since you asked I might as well answer. Yes we had a fight. But what made you ask in the first place? Did Minerva say anything?"

Filius gave Hermione a sad smile as he indicated for them to sit down on the sofa. It was slightly odd, offering Hermione a seat in an office that she was decidedly more familiar with due to her relationship with its current owner. Being the deputy head allowed him to enter the office and even to use it when he acted in the Headmistress' stead but he certainly never lorded over it in Minerva's absence.

"Two days ago Minerva requested that I fill in for her in the last minute preparations, assuring me that she would be back in time for the Start-of-Term Feast" Filius replied as they sat down. "She looked quite distressed and when I asked what the matter was she said she had some urgent family business to attend to. And now you are here asking if I know where Minerva is. An old Ravenclaw can put two and two together" the deputy head said and graciously neglected to mention the evidence of the younger witch's recent tears.

The news jolted the brunette witch from her numb state. _'Family business...what family business?'_

"What else did she say?" she asked, not caring if she sounded as desperate as she felt. A vague feeling of dread crept up on her but she hoped that her sleep depraved mind was only jumping to conclusions.

The ageing charms professor kept his eyes steady on Hermione's increasingly distressed features, attempting to reassure her of his sympathy.

"That is all she said, Hermione" Filius said at first, but then remembered something else. "She did say she was in a hurry as she faced a rather long journey and that she didn't even know where to start but beyond this she didn't give me any details" Filius said. He felt sorry for the young woman and wished that he had more to share but there was nothing else he could offer as a means of comfort.

The brunette's mind suddenly raced with a speed it had not even come close to in the last forty-eight hours. _'God, what are you doing Minerva?'_ The Animagus' last words rang in Hermione's ears almost as if they were mocking her. _'They don't deserve to be cut from each others lives...'_ Hermione's eyes rounded in shock as a terrifying idea formed in her head. _'Merlin... she's trying to find my parents...'_

* * *

Minerva tried to ignore the drop of sweat that had been tickling her furrowed brow for a while now, not daring to break her concentration for even a moment. The spell she was casting required very delicate wand movements, precisely turning her wrist up and down while drawing a figure eight and concentrating on what she was trying to conjure. Remembering Hermione as a wee lass and strictly excluding the now more familiar image of the stunning young woman she grew to be was an arduous task. The Animagus worked hard to remember the child, the young girl whose antics she was more than once exasperated with despite being immensely proud of her.

Her wand was trained on the blank features of her future in-laws who up until a few minutes ago believed themselves to be childless. Reversing a memory charm, particularly if you did not know which charm was used was extremely dangerous and required expertise in legilimency to help reinstate lost memories.

Minerva's parted lips trembled from fatigue but she pushed on, determined to finish until she had unlocked all of the Grangers' memories. Entering two minds at the same time, something akin to mass hypnosis, was extremely taxing to one's magical cores but the Scottish witch had no choice. After weighing her options she realized that she didn't have the time to go about this subtly so she simply entered the house uninvited when she saw that both of Hermione's parents were sitting on the sofa enjoying a cuppa.

When John Granger, at that point believing himself to be Wendell Wilkins, saw her he jumped up and was halfway through demanding an explanation when the Animagus' spell hit the both of them. Their eyes immediately unfocused as Minerva started showing them vaguely familiar images of a young child they felt they should know but couldn't quite place.

The dark haired witch envisioned their minds as a fountain-like Pensieve into which memories flooded like so many jets of water. She imagined that memories in their untampered form ought to be clear and pure whereas tampered memories would be clouded by falsely installed lies. When she entered their minds she noted with some surprise that while a great many of the memory jets were indeed clouded quite a few seemed to have been closed off altogether. In her mind she saw herself going about opening taps that were closed, grateful that she was so intimately familiar with Hermione's magical signature because it helped identify which taps were shut by Hermione and which were shut off naturally. Each bottled up image she unleashed bubbled into the vast ocean of memories. _'Just like transfiguration... it's easier to undo it because the transfigured object seeks to turn back into its natural form.'_ The moment the thought entered Minerva's head she realized what spell Hermione had used and marvelled at the young witch's magical knowledge and ability. It was not a memory charm she had used but an extremely old memory transfiguration spell.

Realizing that she was undoing a transfiguration spell helped the Animagus immensely, and after she slightly altered her technique she finished with relatively more ease. Granted, it was still a difficult task that required high skill, but her magical core was inherently predisposed towards transfiguration which helped relieve some of the burden.

"What...happened?" Jean Granger asked, shaking her head in confusion. When the spell was finished she felt like waking from a very realistic dream that left her feeling slightly bewildered, her mind trying to process the two identities within her. Her eyes then focused on the dishevelled woman heavily leaning against the wall before her, taking in the familiar face and stunning green eyes. The woman seemed perfectly normal apart from the fact that she looked on the verge of passing out yet something was off, as if she ought to look somewhat different. Then suddenly recognition dawned on her, realizing why the woman seemed so out of her element. "Professor McGonagall! What are you doing here? Is Hermione alright?"

* * *

Nausea. Hermione tried breathing evenly as her magic transported her across the globe but the nausea would not stop. She hated the reeling feeling of instability and sickness that long-distance apparition left her with but nothing was as fast as apparating. And what she needed was fast. Post-haste fast. _'God, Minerva, why are you doing this to me?'_

The moment her feet reached solid ground Hermione collapsed, her nausea gone in a flash to be replaced by a blinding pain that jerked her body into spasmic fits. She tried moving, her first instinct was to curl into a ball, to put her hands over the painful area but her muscles protested fiercely and her spine arched violently as another bolt of pain thundered through her body, the intensity threatening to fry her brain. The blood curdling scream she wanted to let out froze on her lips, she did not have enough air in her lungs to expel a single sound. Her mouth opened and closed silently as hot white light danced in front of her tightly shut eyes, her hands helplessly scratched at the hard surface under her, breaking nails as she involuntarily gripped at anything her fingers could reach.

* * *

"No, Mrs. Granger, I can assure you, Hermione is quite..." Minerva began, intent on explaining the last five years to the Grangers but her monologue was cut short by a sudden lurch of dizzying nausea. She staggered backwards into the wall again, her left hand grabbing the front of her muggle shirt as she attempted to steady herself with the right.

"Professor McGonagall?" John Granger said in alarm, taking a step towards the visibly ill woman. "What's wrong?"

An image of blood and gore sliced through Minerva's mind, Hermione lying on concrete in a rapidly growing pool of her own blood. _'She splinched... Merlin, the bloody woman came here and splinched...'_ There was no doubt in the Animagus' mind that Hermione was in Australia. The talented young woman had proven on a number of occasions that she had no issue apparating anywhere within Britain and no other destination seemed logical outside the country.

Frightened green eyes met concerned brown, a mirror image of her Hermione's chocolate orbs. "Merlin... Hermione's hurt... I'll be back as soon as I can to explain." And with that cryptic revelation Minerva apparated, leaving her lover's bewildered and frightened parents on their own.

* * *

"I need more gauze, there's another chunk of missing flesh here!" The paramedic yelled to his colleagues while pressing down on a strongly bleeding wound on Hermione's thigh just above the knee. They'd already put rudimentary patches on most of her wounds but couldn't yet stabilize her condition. It was one of the nastiest incidents the young paramedic had seen during his career so far. A passer by called in, almost hysterical and certainly delusional from the shock, claiming that they heard a loud crack from the ally and when they went to investigate the girl was there, already wounded like that.

* * *

A loud crack announced the arrival of someone by apparition, which caused the inhabitants of the small room to whip their wands out in alarm. The Australian Magical Council was one of the most heavily warded buildings in the country, it should not have been possible for anyone to apparate inside apart from about a half a dozen prominent leaders. Wizards in venom green robes immediately fanned out in a protective circle around the High Councillor whom they had been debriefing to. She being one of the select few to be capable of apparating inside made them all the more wand happy because it either meant that someone was bringing news of great trouble or was bringing great trouble to their very doorstep.

The dark haired wizard closest to the door took a cautious step forward, intent on opening the door leading to the hallway but jumped backwards instantly as the door slammed open and a purposeful looking older witch in muggle clothes stormed in.

Taking in her surroundings, the Animagus' eyes focused on a woman with exceptionally long silver-gray hair with some surprise. She did not expect to see the High Councillor of Australia and wondered if she apparated into the wrong hallway. _'Merlin, that's one mess I do not need right now...'_

"Headmistress McGonagall", the High Councillor acknowledged her presence unfazed before the other woman could formulate a single word. "At ease, gentlemen. I presume the Headmistress is here because of Hermione Granger?" She said without taking her eyes off of Minerva even as she addressed the wizards in the room, who, unsurprisingly, did as they were told, sheathing their wands.

"Where is she?" Minerva asked, not bothering to waste time with pleasantries or even figuring out how she knew about Hermione. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"In a muggle hospital, possibly undergoing some heinous muggle..." the High Councillor faltered, searching for the muggle word "remedy of sorts to treat her injuries", she eventually finished, not wasting more time to fish for words. "We've dispatched an Infiltration Unit along with Obliviators, they are entering the building to retrieve her as we speak."

Relief washed over the Animagus when she heard that Hermione was out of immediate danger. Her racing heart slowed to a relatively slower pace and she allowed herself the time to look around again. The door she almost shattered in her haste to enter was still open so she stepped further inside to be able to close it. The sign read 'Department of Magical Accidents'.

"Pardon my haste and lack of protocol, High Councillor. I'm sure you understand my need for urgency..." Minerva said in a politely formal manner, seeking out the other woman's eyes again. Although she had never met her in person, she had heard about the woman before. She had a reputation for being fair and level-headed. _'Merlin, I could use some of that right about now...'_

Technically speaking she was not doing anything wrong. As Head of Hogwarts she was authorized to apparate into the building in case of an emergency. However, since she only expected to enter the country on a brief personal visit she neglected to announce her arrival on Australian land which could cause some trouble if anything went pear shaped.

"Indeed, I understand, Headmistress. What I don't understand is how Hermione Granger, lauded as the brightest witch of her age AND the Head of Magical Law Enforcement in Britain had failed to remember that she cannot just apparate into Australia at the snap of her fingers?"

* * *

 **TBC**

 **And the plot thickens... Okay what do you think so far? Please let me know! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Here's another chapter, folks. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Sins of the Past**

 **Chapter 9**

* * *

Hermione felt like she'd just survived a frontal collision with a wrecking ball which was followed by an elephant stampede. When she regained her consciousness she tried to distinguish between the various pains ailing her body but she found that it was impossible. Her whole body felt like it had been roasted on an open fire and now her skin tried to peel and crawl off her flesh. She groaned as she attempted to open her eyes but the bright light shot needles of pain through her eyeballs which forced her to shut her eyes tightly again. Not soon afterwards she fainted into a much welcomed blackness.

* * *

„John..." Jean Granger said, faltering as her mind worked to make sense of the conflicting memories that assaulted her. „Why...why in the world are we in Australia? I don't recall ever having wanted to come here...but then suddenly I remember this urge to pack and go..."

„Same here, Jean. And...you know how much I hate snakes...and spiders...and everything that crawls and tries to kill you. I don't know..." he said, confusion evident on his face.

„Hermione...she's probably had something to do with it...she...we do have a daughter, right, John?" Jean asked, as two conflicting memories colliding in her mind. She had a distinct memory of the pains of giving birth and flashes of a brightly smiling young girl, but most of it was blurry around the edges.

"I think so." John said, furrowing his brows in concentration. "I remember bushy brown hair and a small child skipping towards me but it feels so distant. Like it was a lifetime ago."

* * *

"Easy, love. You don't want to overdo it quite so soon", a soothing voice said as Hermione attempted to raise herself on her elbows. The pain had significantly diminished, now it was just a dull ache here and there. As she had a moment to adjust to her new condition, it struck her how remarkably well she was, compared to earlier. It was not much worse than the fatigue and muscle soreness she felt after the final battle.

"Whu...where...", she attempted to ask but her vocal chords appeared to have a mind of their own.

"Hush, my dear...you're in St. MacKillop. You're safe. You splinched when you apparated", the familiar lilt, thick with emotion, cleared the remaining fog from Hermione's mind as she realized who was sitting by her bed. She relaxed her muscles as instructed and instead opened her eyes.

"M...Minerva", she croaked weakly and attempted a smile.

"Of course, my love. Who else?" The Scottish witch replied, thankful that the young witch seemed to be recovering well. Her heart sped up in joy when Hermione's brown eyes focused on her. As red rimmed and watery as they were, Minerva still thought they lit up her otherwise ashen face. She reached out to squeeze her lover's hand affectionately.

"How'd...you know that I was here?" Hermione asked.

The Animagus took the fact that the brunette was already asking questions as a good sign and relief flooded her senses once again. When she was alerted that the Infiltration Unit recovered Hermione from the muggle hospital she immediately rushed to her side, High Councillor's enquiry be damned. She'd explained most of their situation to High Councillor Robinson who was astonished to find out that Hermione's parents were concealed in Australia. Minerva was vaguely worried that they would demand to question Hermione about this move but that would be a crisis for another day. _'All that matters for now is that she recovers completely...'_

"I'm an Animagus..." Minerva said cryptically, wondering if the hint would be enough for Hermione to figure it out.

Hermione furrowed her brows, racking her brain for the key to Minerva's riddle. She knew that her lover was waiting for her to figure it out but her brain felt extremely sluggish, more so than it should have. "Sorry, my brain feels like it's been frozen over and hasn't thawed yet...", she admitted.

Minerva snorted at the brunette's colourful admission of defeat. "I believe that might be due to the chemicals the muggle doctors fed you before you were smuggled out." she explained. She had been told that they literally had to obliviate their way into the muggle emergency room, restrain everyone and perform rudimentary healing spells to stabilize Hermione's condition enough to magically transport her. "Animagi not only have heightened senses but...a sort of magically enhanced instinct as well, if you will. We can sense if our mate is in trouble."

The brunette absorbed the information but there were still some gaping holes that didn't quite add up. "So...how come I still ended up in the muggle hospital?" she asked.

The Animagus stared for a few moments, processing what Hermione really was getting at, the hidden meaning behind her question. "It's a type of... sixth sense, if you will, not a locator spell. I knew something terrible had happened to you. I saw flashes of you in a pool of your own blood." Minerva cringed at the all too vivid memory. She was grateful that she did not have to see Hermione in that state from up close, the vague impression that flashed into her mind was more than enough for a lifetime. "I didn't know where you were but I hazarded a rough guess. I apparated to the Australian Magical Council for help but upon my arrival they told me that they've already dispatched a unit to retrieve you."

Silence stretched thickly between the two witches as the younger woman absorbed all the information. She knew they would inevitably have to discuss the exact nature of both of their reasons to travel to Australia but Hermione was loath to broach the topic just yet. She was sore and tired, relieved that she was alive and deep down, incredibly happy to see Minerva.

"Thank you", the brunette finally said, squeezing the hand that still rested on hers. "And... I'm sorry. I..." she faltered. She hadn't had time to think about how to put her regret into words.

"We can talk about that another time, Hermione", Minerva said. She intended it to ease her lover's worry but her tone sounded much too dry, even for her, so she elaborated. "You're projecting your guilt so vividly that it's almost blinding. And I'm inclined to forgive you, but you need to rest. There is likely going to be a formal enquiry regarding why you chose to apparate directly from Britain to Australia."

"I should think you would be able to answer that on your own" Hermione quipped in a slightly less friendly tone, her temper suddenly flaring. Despite the fatigue and pain, she quite vividly remembered why she was all but forced into making this decision.

Minerva stared at Hermione for a long minute. She honestly did not remember her having such a tempter in her younger years. _'I hope I'm not rubbing off on her the wrong way...'_

"I should think not. Apparating to Australia is forbidden for a reason, Hermione. Surely you know that?" Minerva evaded the younger woman's accusation.

"And the same rules do not apply to you? I take it you've apparated as well." Hermione remarked sullenly. It was then, that Minerva realized that Hermione might indeed be oblivious to the reason for her alarm. She was heralded as the brightest witch of her age for a reason, but on occasion Minerva was reminded that her brilliant lover was, indeed, still human. With all the imperfections that implied.

"Love", she said patiently. "It's forbidden because it is much too dangerous. Most people cannot make the trip without splinching fatally. As for me, I'm the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Hogwarts lends some of its magic to me which enables me to apparate safely across the globe."

The change in Hermione's features as the information sank in was remarkable. She first went from sullen to confused and then as realization of what could have happened sank in, her slightly pinkish hue faded back to the ashen pale that she'd started out with. When she realized that she is lucky to even be alive her eyes filled with horror.

"I'm sorry I came here without your consent. But I never dreamed that you'd try to follow me in such a hazardous manner." Minerva said truthfully. She did feel slightly guilty, but she knew that what Hermione said she wanted was not necessarily always what Hermione actually needed. The Animagus knew that in the long run the younger witch would regret not including her parents in their lives out of fear. She'd rather work to get Hermione's trust back than work to pick up the irreparably damaged pieces.

"Why did you?" Hermione asked quietly. The revelation that she could have died knocked most of the anger out of her.

"I was furious about what happened the other day. I was fuming in my office, trying to figure out what exactly happened, what would prompt you to behave in such a way" Minerva said, and halted whatever Hermione was about to say with a raised hand "and then suddenly I realized that it was fear. When I realized that it came to me almost instantly. Am I right in assuming that you were so terrified because you were worried that meddling with their memories a second time would cause them permanent damage?"

The fact that Hermione averted her eyes was confirmation enough for Minerva, but the bright young witch nodded in affirmation.

"I've managed to complete the spell before your arrival. They're going to be fine." Minerva said. She thought that the fact that she literally finished the spell just minutes before Hermione's splinching might best be concealed for the time being. The mere notion that Hermione could have jarred her from her concentration in the middle of it gave her a cold shiver. That was not something she could have been able to repair, neither in the Grangers' memories, nor in Hermione.

"So...they remember me?" Hermione asked, her tone hopeful. It pained the Animagus to see Hermione so vulnerable, so broken. She looked like a small child in that moment, who only wanted to cuddle up with her mommy after a terrible fright.

"They do" the dark haired witch replied, glossing over the details of how she left them. "I've been waiting for you to recover enough to receive visitors. Shall I fetch them?"

"What if they won't forgive me for what happened?" the brunette asked in a small voice.

"My love, I would never let that happen." Minerva vowed solemnly and meant every word of it. If she had to she'd talk holes into their stomachs until they relented and accepted that their daughter had done the only thing possible to save them.

Hermione lips turned upwards into a grateful smile, and she slowly raised the hand still gripped in hers, kissing the knuckles gently. "I love you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

The heartfelt words coming from Hermione made Minerva's heart skip a beat. Her body flushed and a beautiful smile that finally reached her eyes lit up her face. "I love you too, Hermione." She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to the recovering woman's temple. "Let me get your parents."

* * *

The front door bell made the inhabitants of the Wilkins-now-turned-Grangers' home jump in anticipation. Both rushed to the door and tore it open, surprising the Animagus enough to make her take a step backwards.

"About time Professor! Come in!" They exclaimed at the same time. "Where is Hermione? Is she alright? And WHY are we Australia?" They bombarded her with a myriad of questions as they none too gently ushered her into the living room.

Minerva took a deep, calming breath to collect her thoughts and regain her composure. She figured out in hindsight that she should have anticipated that the Grangers would await her in something of a panic. Their questions definitely pleased her as they proved that their minds appeared to have worked through the contradictions of their memories.

"My apologies, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. There was a...bit of a complication. Hermione is well on her way to recovery now." She started with the most urgent news, hoping that bit of information would calm their nerves enough that they would stop asking about Hermione so frantically. "Hermione had a travelling accident here in Australia which required medical attention but the muggle medical services arrived on the scene before our healers could have found her. They needed to retrieve her from the muggle authorities before they transported her to St. MacKillop which is the local magical hospital."

She watched as her prospective in-laws processed the information. Relief was evident on their faces from the moment she revealed that Hermione was in good hands but she knew that their apparent calmness as only going to last for so long before a new storm of questions hit.

"So...she's in one of your hospitals. How is she? Can we see her?" Jean Granger asked.

"Yes, that is why I am here, so that I may escort you to St. MacKillop." Minerva confirmed. "However, I believe I should explain a few things to you before we arrive. They'll surely come up in the coming discussions but it would be better not to tax your daughter's recovery too much. I believe I'll be able to answer much of your questions myself."

* * *

Hermione anxiously picked at the lint on the purple blanket she was covered with. If there was one thing she hated, it was waiting, and especially if she had nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs. Minerva had left about two hours ago. "What in the bloody hell is taking her so long?" She muttered to her self in exasperation. At first she'd assumed that Minerva had just stepped out to get her parents from the hallway but soon realized that was not the case. When she thought about it, for she certainly had the time, it seemed perfectly logical. Minerva told her, although not in so many words, that she had stayed by her side ever since they retrieved her. Which, she found out from one of the healers checking up on her, was about six hours ago. She'd been unconscious for over four hours.

The younger witch slowly regained her strength, the healing potions administered to her were kicking in. Granted, they'd been hampered at first, due to the muggle anaesthetics coursing through her veins but once they figured out what drugs were given to her the healers managed to counter their effects. Hermione gingerly raised the blanket to look at her healing wounds.

The young healer in training who had been in to check on her a while ago was very communicative and explained to her that she'd had a great deal of skin stripped off her flesh and that a large chunk of her left thigh was missing, as well as several of her ribs. She'd guessed that something was up with her bones because of the nasty tasting Skele-Gro they made her drink but it was still a shock to learn that she'd be experiencing the regrowth of her ribs during the night.

She raised the neck of her nightshirt to peek at the monstrous sight of her chest which had odd dents where her ribs ought to have kept her skin and breasts up. Her left breast looked firm and perky as usual but the other currently looked rather flat as much of its mass was residing in the hollow left by her absent ribs. When she'd first noticed this she almost got a panic attack but the very compassionate healer who drew her attention to it explained that as the ribs grew out they'd push her breast back up where it belonged. Hermione vaguely wondered how the rib didn't pierce the soft tissue, to which the healer replied with a cheerful grin and said it was magic.

After she'd satisfied her curiosity once again she slowly but determinedly reached for the glass of water on the bedside table. However, before her sluggish muscles could propel her hand to its destination, her attention was drawn to the door opening and she instantly froze when she saw the familiar faces of her parents. And no Minerva in sight. _'Coward.'_

* * *

 _TBC_

 **AN: I know I'm cruel with my cliffhangers. *muhaha* Let me know how much you hate me right now? :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry for the hiatus again. I had a working Saturday last week and a one-day weekend wasn't enough for anything, let alone getting into a creative mood. Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Sins of the Past

Chapter 10

* * *

Later Hermione would vaguely wonder why her body saw it fit to react to unexpected stress with cranking up her inner thermostat but at that exact moment her brain refused to cooperate. Her parents were a mere dozen feet away. Closing in steadily, her mother's heels clicking on the hard surface of the floor. The sound was like an ominous countdown. They were at the foot for her bed. Her mother was smiling. _'Wait, what? That doesn't make sense. She should be angry with me...'_

"Hermione..." Jean breathed, finding it difficult to restrain herself from smothering her daughter in a hug. Setting her eyes on her temporarily forgotten daughter made Jean all too aware of the fact that she had missed close to five years of her life. _'She's all grown up now...'_

* * *

Minerva chose to stay away from Hermione's room for the time being, allowing the family their privacy to reunite after a half a decade. Although she would have dearly loved to support her lover trough the emotional upheaval the meeting was likely to foster, she suspected that her presence might actually stilt some of the conversation. While the Grangers did their best to take the news of their relationship in stride she wasn't blind to their initial shock. _'Hmpf...well I guess I would be shocked too if I suddenly learned that the child I had temporarily forgotten about was dating one of her rather older teachers...'_ Minerva mused silently as she strode down the hallway of the Australian Magical Council. This time she was very careful to observe protocol.

While High Councillor Robinson wasn't completely hostile about their sudden and quite unannounced visit she made it clear that she wanted answers. Particularly about why Hermione neglected to inform them that Australia had become an unaware and quite unprepared host to what amounts to war refugees fleeing from the most dangerous man on Earth. The Animagus had a hunch that High Councillor Robinson appeared to be as calm about the affair as she was only because her country came out of the Second Wizarding War literally unscathed.

"Ah, Minerva. Just the person I was itching to talk to", the voice of said High Councillor jolted Minerva from her thoughts. Although she was not prone to slouching, the Animagus had the sudden urge to straighten her back even further and her stomach muscles tensed in anticipation of the unavoidable discussion. The Scottish witch imagined a dramatic sigh escaping her lips with some pleasure as she plastered a pleasant enough smile on her face. Only her cast iron will stopped her from rolling her eyes at that moment, bowing her head from the neck in acceptance of the not too subtle invitation.

* * *

"So... you're not mad at me?" Hermione asked, her voice small. She glanced up every now and then but her eyes were trained on her lap for the most part.

"Sweetheart, I won't deny that I am...upset about all that has happened, but..." John tried this time. They appeared to be going in circles and the moment they finished reassuring Hermione that they were not upset it was like something erased it and they had to start all over again. "Love, are you sure that we are not in some kind of a weird...magical time accident? I feel like I've been repeating myself forever", he tried breaking the tension. "You saved our lives. That's the bottom line and nothing else matters..."

"Although..." Jean cut in and a mischievous smile formed on lips as she waited a few seconds before continuing "maybe the candy shop in Sidney was overdoing it..." she tried for a deadpan monotone but her smile betrayed her instantly.

"And in Australia of all places!" John Granger countered, catching on to what his wife was up to. "Like you don't know that your poor old father hates everything that has less than two or more than four legs..." his imitation of a genuine upset appeared to be better than his wife's as Hermione's eyes grew to the size of saucers when she realized her mistake.

"Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed, and wanted to go on but her next words were swallowed by her parents' suddenly erupting laughter. The bushy haired young witch looked at them in bewilderment until she caught on, realizing that they were trying to make her feel better about the whole ordeal.

"Well... I guess if you're acting like a pair of teenagers on April's fool you really must not be too angry." She muttered, finally allowing a small smile to grace her lips.

* * *

"And how exactly do you know that?!" The outraged voice boomed with such ferocity that the surrounding portraits experienced slight tremors as their frames shook against the wall.

"Now, Minerva, no need to get so upset..." the portrait closest tried to calm the raging witch.

"Of course there is need! You, YOU, of all people, Alfred Ross, should know how important a tradition it is!" the dark haired witch countered the placating words, her attitude completely unheeding. "EVERY Ross child must be brought to the Manor before the first full moon after their birth! And you're telling me that they're in Australia?" the elderly witch fumed and paced back and forth inside her portrait.

The other portraits in the darkened hallway gawked at the scene unfolding with mild interest. Most of them remembered Minerva Ross from when she was a young lass and thus knew that directly involving themselves in the argument was not only pointless but quite detrimental if one's goal was to bring it to a swift close.

"I'm told that Minerva left to fetch Hermione's parents and that Hermione chased after her in something of a frenzy." Alfred attempted to explain to his sister that her namesake was not gallivanting across the globe for no good reason this close to the full moon.

"What did you say?" Minerva abruptly stopped her pacing to look at her older brother's portrait.

"I said that Minerva finally decided to take matters into her own hands. She went to fetch the Grangers." Alfred said, pride evident in both his tone and his features. He'd always had a soft spot for his grand-niece but he especially agreed with this particular decision of hers. He had been pestering Minerva to bring the Grangers back almost from the moment Hermione's pregnancy was announced to the family. Even though the young Animagus privately agreed with him she also told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to broach the topic in front of Hermione. The fact that she was finally standing up for her convictions was very much to his liking.

"Well I guess THAT at least will serve to shut your mouth about the subject." Minerva grumbled semi-good naturedly. She had no qualms about her great-granddaughter dating a muggle-born and a witch at that but the incessant bickering between Minerva and Alfred had begun to annoy her. "However, the fact remains that there will be a full moon in just three days. I hope Minerva will not forget that."

"I'm sure she won't forget to bring the wee lass home." Alfred said, happy to have managed to placate his sister.

"I wonder if she's inherited any of the Ross features. Her hair most likely..." Minerva mused, her tone becoming significantly gentler than before.

"Oh, lass, I hate to break it to you..." He said with a wicked chuckle. His original intention in bringing up the subject was to bring home the gossip everyone was dying to hear, but of course he should have known that his sister's temper would blow up in their faces. It always had. "It's definitely not the hair. I've been told that the little lady is a redhead." The devilish grin plastered on Alfred's face slowly morphed into a concerned frown as he witnessed his sister's raping paling. The change was almost instantaneous and had she not been a portrait he would have seriously entertained the possibility that she might faint.

* * *

 _Next day..._

Hermione was ecstatic when the healer said that her ribs were so well healed that it was safe to try sitting up, despite being sore just about everywhere. She remembered Madam Pompfrey's distressed reaction to Harry's loss of bones in their second year and that the matron said that regrowing bones was a nasty business. _'No kidding...'_ Before the potion really kicked in Hermione entertained the idea that she could perhaps stay up and watch her breast being moved back to its place by her slowly growing ribs, but was very soon proven wrong. The pain was so unbearable that sometime during the night she started thrashing around, her muscles contracting involuntarily, and the night shift healers had to perform a Full Body-Bind spell on her to keep her from damaging her still tender ribs.

The brunette witch gingerly put her arms next to her hips on the bed, experimenting with putting some weight on it before attempting anything more solid. When the expected pain didn't rear its ugly head she pushed some more and within a few seconds found herself in a sitting position in the bed. She was still sore and she was told that her thigh wasn't quite healed yet but the fact that she could now sit upright was refreshing. "Thank you, Healer Johnson." she said gratefully to the visiting healer.

"Please, call me James." The young man said with a broad smile. He fussed around with her pillow and her bed cover just slightly more than was actually necessary but it was enough to cue Hermione in.

"James." Hermione repeated, an amused expression lighting her face up.

"Ah, have you managed to persuade the young healer here to let you sit up?" the welcome lilt of her lover immediately attracted Hermione's attention. Minerva was about two beds away from her and since most of the beds were empty she allowed her voice to carry over the distance. The brunette knew for a fact that Minerva's keen hearing would have allowed her to hear most of their previous conversation if she was anywhere near the room, which would explain the subtle hints of mirth around the corners of her mouth.

"He's been doing most of the persuading actually." Hermione said with a cheeky grin.

"Has he, now?" Minerva replied raising an eyebrow at the young man who was quickly catching onto the fact that the two women's inside joke appears to be on him.

"And I'm so happy he did too, love. I can sit up!" Hermione beamed, discreetly smuggling the term of endearment into the conversation. She stretched her arms out towards Minerva in the universal sign that she wanted a hug.

The Animagus happily complied, a similarly playful grin gracing her lips as she bent to envelope her lover in a gentle hug. "Naughty witch", she whispered into Hermione's ear before easing back just far enough to turn her face and capture soft lips with her own.

It was a very simple and rather short kiss yet so much emotion was packed into it that it left the poor healer's face red right up to the roots of his hair. He mumbled something about other patients and a vague promise to check on Hermione later and scurried right out of the room without so much as a glance backwards.

The two witches shared a devilish grin before they both erupted into fits of giggles. "Took a shine to you, didn't he?" Minerva asked good-naturedly.

"Apparently. Merlin knows why though", Hermione replied, smiling as she shook her head.

"Well, I don't know about Merlin, but I definitely do. You are beautiful", Minerva said warmly. Sometimes she still wondered how she managed to get quite so lucky.

"Minerva... I know you are biased, but one would think that when I'm short a pound of meat and a few ribs that would...diminish some of my allure", Hermione dead panned.

"Never", the Animagus immediately countered in a likewise deadpan monotone. The average onlooker might have been fooled by her antics but Hermione saw in the shine of her eyes and her pursed lips that she had to fight for control over her facial expression.

"At least you weren't overzealous enough to say that it adds to it", Hermione's tongue in cheek comment hit the mark and the Animagus burst out laughing.

* * *

 _An hour later..._

Minerva wanted to leave when Hermione's parents arrived, still feeling somewhat of an outsider but to her pleasant surprise all three Grangers were adamant that she stay.

"Professor Mc... I mean, Minerva." Jean corrected herself and smiled sheepishly at the older woman. "You simply must stay. I know adjusting is going to be something of a challenge for all of us, but you are my granddaughter's...other mother. You're family. I want to get to know you."

The Animagus easily relented, secretly grateful that her in-laws were so keen to make an effort to accept her into the family. When Hermione asked her out five years ago she wondered if such a transition could ever be managed but the fact that the young witch's parents were still without their memories lulled her apprehension somewhat. That is, until now. The fact that not only her lover but also her in-laws were younger than her was a seriously disturbing thought. She looked at Jean Granger and saw a middle aged woman who had some greying hair and a couple of laugh lines but was undeniably attractive. And definitely more age appropriate than her stunningly beautiful daughter. However, Minerva, ever the efficient compartmentalizer, bottled up this particular feeling to examine it at a later point in time. _'Much later.'_

"So when do we get to meet our grandchild?" John asked, looking pointedly at Hermione over his newly acquired glasses.

"Uh," Hermione groaned. She had hoped that her parents would start with a bit of light conversation. "Well I left her with Molly before travelling. I expect we can all meet each other once they discharge me."

"Who is Molly?" Jean asked, curious about anyone and everyone in Hermione's life, but especially people her daughter deemed appropriate to care for her child.

Hermione did not respond at first. She felt like a lump had formed in her throat all of a sudden and she felt the need to seek Minerva's eyes out in reassurance. _'Surely she told them SOMETHING...'_ The possibility that Minerva might have left her parents clueless flashed through her mind but Minerva's reassuring nod confirmed that they did indeed know at least some bits of their new family history.

"She's uh... she's family?" Hermione tried lamely but there was no easy way around it. "She's Arthur Weasley's wife and Arthur is... my second cousin, once removed."

As Hermione waited for the information to sink in she mentally prepared herself for the rest of what she had to explain to her parents.

"Ah, yes, him. Minerva did mention him, but I still don't understand it." Jean said. "If either of us is related to a magical person how is it that we don't have any magic?"

"No one knows exactly why it happens, but sometimes witches and wizards have children who do not possess the ability to wield magic. Squibs, we call them." Minerva injected, easily going into lecture mode. Having been the Deputy Headmistress under Albus for decades she was well used to answering such questions. "And yet still more mysterious is the fact that magic often resurfaces among the descendants of the magical person, usually many generations later. By that time most Squib families have lost their knowledge of the wizarding side of their family and are, to all intents and purposes, muggles. Hence the term, Muggle-born."

"So... you are saying that either Jean or myself are actually..what did you say, Squids?" John asked after a few moments of soaking the information in.

"Squib, dad. Squib. Not squid." Hermione said between coughs, which were actually poor attempts at masking her amusement.

Minerva refrained from commenting on Hermione's antics and wisely swallowed her own mirth. Decades of hearing words mispronounced by muggles and it still did not get old. However, she thought it would be quite tactless to laugh just now.

"Not necessarily. We would need to perform some diagnostic spells to determine if either of you are indeed Squibs or muggles but someone in your family tree is definitely a Squib and the child of one of Arthur's ancestors." Minerva said in her best serious voice.

"And how do you propose we unravel this mystery?" Jean asked, her voice coloured with excitement.

* * *

TBC

 **A/N: I hope this chapter makes up for missing out on an update last week! Enjoy and please let me know what you think!**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Here's another chapter, enjoy!**

* * *

 **Sins of the Past**

 **chapter 11**

* * *

"So.." Hermione said, furrowing her brows in concentration, "I'm barely out of the hospital bed after a near-fatal apparating accident, had but a measly day to digest that I've my parents back in my life and now you're telling me that I must apparate back to Scotland by tomorrow the latest or a dozen generations of your family will be what... cursed? Is that it?" The brunette witch summed up what Minerva had been explaining for the better part of a half an hour.

"Side-along apparate", the Animagus corrected dryly. "And yes, that appears to be the situation. My great granduncle's portrait came from the manor all the way to the Australian Council to remind me that there is a full moon tomorrow night."

"Great. Brilliant. And what exactly is the curse?" Hermione asked, still not particularly impressed with the new development. She was slightly sore from the rapid regrowth of her bones and muscles and more than emotionally drained from trying to catch up with her parents. She was more than relieved that her parents were willing to move back to England and thrilled beyond words that they were eager to get to know their grandchild.

"The translation is somewhat difficult to decipher. It has something to do with hot air and balloons. Or hot air balloons. Could possibly be shaving bubbles", Minerva said without a hint of emotion. To all intents and purposes it appeared as if she genuinely believed what she'd just said but the smirk that slowly formed on her lips betrayed her. "It is a load of codswallop if you ask me. But alas, the Ross side of my family appears to believe it and so the tradition must needs be observed."

* * *

 _Next day at the Manor..._

Hermione knew that her fussing around with Rose was a rather obvious way to stall for time but if she was being honest, she was nervous. Apparently it was a family tradition that after the first child was born each Ross descendant had to present his or her chosen partner along with their offspring before the family council of elders. Theoretically, if the elders were not pleased with the supposed magical talent of the child they could forbid the relationship. When Hermione was thinking straight she knew how ridiculous that sounded. The tradition had been formed centuries ago when family bonds bore much more significance. _'We've been together for five years for God's sake...it's not like Minerva is going to dump my ass if her great grandaunt or whoever says she ought to!'_

Rose appeared to be quite content, her eyes roaming in a circular motion, attempting to focus her young eyes on all the interesting new things that crossed her line of sight. Her ability to focus on individual objects became stronger and stronger with each day but she still primarily relied on her sense of smell. Her mother's smell filled her nostrils, her belly was full of warm milk and she was dry and clean, nothing else much mattered to her. She raised her tiny hand to clumsily grab at the shiny necklace dangling from her mother's neck just close enough for her to distinguish it as a separate object.

The brunette witch was suddenly startled out of her thoughts as two hands she had not been expecting encircled her in a gentle hug. Realizing that it was only her lover and not some unexpected attack from behind, she relaxed into strong arms. "I'm nervous", she admitted, partially turning in the embrace to face Minerva.

"I can see. But there's no need. It is but a formality", the Animagus attempted to soothe her nervous lover. "They know you already. They have known you for close to four years. And in any event, I don't particularly care what their pronouncement will be. I love you", the Scottish witch whispered into the brunette's ear before softly kissing just below her earlobe.

A shiver ran down Hermione's spine at the intimate contact, bringing with it a multitude of memories. Hot and steamy memories of their previous lovemaking, and passionate encounters from their respective offices before they moved in together. Just thinking about it made her breath hitch slightly and she had to close her eyes from the sensory overload.

"I love it that I still have that effect on you." Minerva murmured, allowing her breath to softly tickle Hermione's skin.

"Mmmm, I think I love it too", Hermione admitted, smiling up at the green eyed witch.

"Shall we get this over with? I think I should like to ravish you tonight" the Animagus's voice was barely above a whisper and her eyes smouldered hotly as her own promise ignited a fire inside her veins.

* * *

 _At the Wilkins/Granger residence in Australia_

"Well we can always start with my mother, if you're not yet comfortable with the idea", Jean suggested calmly before she took a sip of her tea. The familiar and comforting feeling of the hot liquid flowing down her throat was much welcomed despite the fact that August had a warm spring weather in store for them.

John just stared at his wife for a moment, contemplating their predicament. They'd been in Australia for over five years and they'd left without a single word to either of their parents. The very notion that they'd suddenly just pick up the phone and call either elderly couple was mind boggling. _'What are going to say? That we'd been on an extended vacation and forgot to call them?'_

"But what are we going to tell them? That we were so busy living our new life in Australia that we forgot to call them for five years?" John asked, thoroughly agitated at the prospect of explaining to his father why he did not bother to show up for their annual fishing trip. Or birthdays. Or Christmas.

"Well...we can always come up with something. Say we were in the witness protection program. We were not allowed to telephone them because that would have endangered them", Jean replied instantly. It was obvious that she had given the problem a fair bit of thought.

"And how do you know they are even alive?" John countered. The idea presented itself suddenly and raised his anxiety level quite disproportionately. His mother had a heart condition. If she even survived the ordeal of her son vanishing, John Granger was not quite sure if she'd survive his just as sudden reappearance five years later.

* * *

 _Manor, Scotland_

"Ooooh, just look at her, Minerva" Alfred Ross cooed from his portrait, attempting to press his nose closer to the magical boundaries of his portrait as a very much alive Minerva stepped closer to the portrait so her great granduncle could see. "Look at that perfect Ross nose. I'm fairly sure she got that from you."

Minerva Ross remained somewhat distant although she attempted to show polite interest. All the portraits around them threw anxious glances in the Ross matriarch's direction to discern her current mood. It was an eerie change and none of them could figure it out. Their talented pride and joy of an ancestor had been positively anxious to meet the newest member of the family until Alfred's recent gossip-mongering. To everyone's mild surprise and relief that had been the last time the hallways of Ross Manor were noisy with Minerva's feisty discussions about family curses.

"Yes, quite", Minerva Ross replied and offered a small smile to warm her dry words. After a brief moment her eyes sought Hermione out. "So...you are saying that some muggle invention confirmed that you are in fact related to the Weasley's?" she enquired with thinly veiled curiosity. There was an eagerness burning in her eyes that were not present while she was inspecting her newest descendant.

"Yes. We have not yet found out how or who it is, but the DNA test confirmed that I am Arthur Weasley's second cousin, once removed." Hermione replied. She had been intimidated by Minerva Ross at first, but in course of five years found an odd sort of rapport with the woman. She'd found that the best course of action was to be bold and frank with her. The woman was a thorough and thorough Gryffindor.

The Minerva inside the portrait stood still and silent for a moment, visibly racking her mind to recall information from the distant past. "I would not be surprised if you turned out to be a descendant of Winston. The ghastly old lecher." Minerva finally said with a truly amused smirk. Upon seeing the confused expression on Hermione's face she elaborated "Winston was Arthur's granduncle. He was Wilfrid's brother and, I presume you know, Wilfrid Weasley was Arthur's grandfather."

"Oh. No, I did not know. Thank you for the suggestion." Hermione said politely. Her mind was already racing in several different directions. _'Who was this Winston? And what did Minerva mean by ghastly lecher? Could he have made a pass at one of my grandmothers or great-grandmothers when they were very young? Before they married? Are either of my parents illegitimate?'_ Jean Granger's sketchy romance novels that Hermione found during the summer after her third year left a rather prominent imprint on the brunette's imagination. "How do you know Winston?" she asked casually, hoping to find out more about her potential ancestor.

"I used to apprentice under him in his apothecary before I moved on to study for my Mastery" Minerva replied just as casually."He was a very just and generous boss but he couldn't stop flirting to save his life."

"Did he ever try anything with you?" Hermione asked.

Minerva raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at the question. "He did, actually. But I laughed square in his face and he never tried again. He was a gentleman like that."

 _'I guess that blows any rape theories. Thank the God.'_ Hermione thought vaguely. As they chattered along she noticed that Minerva Ross appeared to be considerably more at ease than when this whole ceremony started. Hermione was surprised that the ceremony essentially meant that the portraits of all the prominent Ross elders were moved from the hallways to the den in a half-circular fashion and after an uncomfortable first five minutes all the portraits started reminiscing and sharing anecdotes from their lifetime.

Just as yet another of Alfred's rambunctious adventures was slowly coming to an end Hermione remembered the family lullaby and figured that now might be the best time to ask. _'Between all these portraits they have a few centuries covered, I'm sure they can come up with something.'_

She addressed Minerva Ross, who was the portrait closes to where she was sitting. "Do you know anything about the history of your family lullaby?"

Much to her surprise the change in Minerva senior's demeanour was instantaneous. Her features became guarded and her squinted her eyes in suspicion. "It is a very old lullaby that has been in the family for centuries. We do not know much about it."

The answer sounded decidedly final but Hermione was stubborn enough to disregard the implied end to this particular conversation. "It sounded very familiar almost from the moment Minerva started singing it. Eventually I found a muggle variation."

Hermione wanted to carry on and explain more about her findings but Minerva senior cut across her explanation with a measure of irritation. "I'm sure that it is a coincidence. Our family is known to have consorted with muggles from time to time. We have even invested in the muggle industry on occasion and employed them in factories. It is likely that they would have heard the song eventually."

"But it seems very odd that the muggle variation would be about Morgana Le Fey's son if there was no family connection, wouldn't it?" Hermione asked, hopeful that she might get an answer if she pressed. However, within seconds of her uttering Morgana's name the entire room feel deathly silent. All the portraits gaped at Hermione at first and some attempted to steal stealthy glances in Minerva Senior's direction, although none dared look at the witch directly.

Hermione looked to her side in search of _her_ Minerva for some help but the Animagus appeared to be just as confused as she was.

* * *

 _Australia Granger/Wilkins residence_

"Witness protection program? Witness protection program?" An outraged female voice bellowed into the phone at such volume that Jean Granger had to remove the receiver away from her ear for fear of going deaf. "ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU LEFT WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A NOTE BECAUSE YOU WERE IN THE WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM? IS THIS SOME KIND OF JOKE?"

Jean sat helplessly on the sofa, receiver clutched in her left hand, John's hand in her right, waiting for her mother to stop screaming into the phone. Her mother had always been a fierce woman and allowed absolutely no nonsense in her household and age only made her shorter of temper. Apparently she was not impressed with her daughter's explanation. "Mum. If you are done yelling at me, please let me explain. Yes. The witness protection program does not allow any sort of contact with the protectee's past life. I would have put you in danger."

"What kind of danger?" Jean's mother demanded.

"The dangerous kind? Look, John and I witnessed a robbery across the street from our surgery and it turned out to be connected to terrorism. The police wanted us to testify at court and offered protection until it was safe." Jean said. She hated lying but she tried to convince herself that technically she didn't outright lie. She just paraphrased their situation in such a way that any unsuspecting muggle would be able to accept it without a doubt. From what she understood of Hermione's explanation that Voldemort fellow does sound like quite the tyrant and terrorist and while they had not consented, the whole fiasco was for their protection.

"That sounds like you just read it out of a cheap action movie script," Victoria Greenside accused her daughter.

"I wish I had mum, I wish I had. Anyway, that's all I can tell you. We'll be on a plane tomorrow back to England. Give us a day or two to settle in? Then we've a LOT to catch up on." Jean attempted to placate her mother.

"Oh I say. What of Hermione? I've started receiving Christmas cards but that's about it", Victoria asked, half-placated but still somewhat sullen.

Jean faltered in her reply. She had not thought to add Hermione into her cover story. "Um, she didn't keep in contact? That is odd. I will certainly ask her." Her answer was deliberately vague. Suddenly the implications of Hermione's relationship came crashing around her and it was all she could do to stop herself from hyperventilating. _'Oh GOD. Not only do I have to explain to my mother that I have a granddaughter but also that hers is dating a woman HER age?'_

"Okay, mum, I'm sorry but I really have to hang up now, I'll call again after we land in London. Bye. Love you. _"_ Jean said hastily before hanging up. She looked at her husband who just gave her a wry grin.

"That sounded like it went well." He said with a teasing grin firmly planted on his face.

"Oh, shush, you. At least I called her. I haven't seen you picking up the phone to call your parents." Jean shot back just as good-naturedly. They had not spent thirty years happily married for no good reason. They knew exactly when to tease and when to be serious with one another.

* * *

 _Manor, Scotland_

"That went well." Minerva deadpanned when they finally reached the safety of their bedroom.

"I'm torn between nominating that sentence for the expression of the year award of having it banned forever." Hermione answered wearily as she placed Rose in her crib. "Minerva senior is...scary."

"And Minerva Junior isn't?" the Animagus teased, hoping to relieve some of her lover's tension. Stepping behind her she placed her hands on tense shoulders and began kneading them. An enthusiastic moan was the instant answer.

"No. Minerva Junior is doing a wonderful job right now." Hermione groaned. She hadn't realized how tense her shoulders were until Minerva started massaging them. They stood like that for a couple of minutes enjoying the comfortable silence and each other's proximity. When the Animagus felt that the younger brunette's shoulders didn't tense back up the moment she desisted her ministrations she lead her lover to their bed and made her sit.

"Love, I'm sure great grandma Minerva will come around. I'm not sure what's got into her, but give her time." Minerva said.

"She told me in no uncertain terms that I am never to talk about ' _that woman_ ' again or she'd disown me from the family. I think there's no place to come around to from that standpoint." Hermione said matter-of-factly. Her voice was much too controlled and did not reflect the whirlwind of emotions her watery eyes hinted at.

"Yes, well, she's a portrait. She can't do much damage, can she?" Minerva asked, her voice kind and compassionate, as if she were talking to a sick child. "If she gives you much grievance I'll just threaten to move her into the attic", the Animagus said with a grin intended to cheer Hermione.

Hermione, despite her bad mood, softly chuckled. "I guess that ought to give her some perspective", she finally conceded. From her various conversations with portraits she was fairly sure that there was no worse punishment for portraits, particularly ones that did not have duplicates, to be banished to boring old attics that no one visited. A loving smile graced her lips as she leaned in to kiss the woman who not only stole her heart but was a master at mending it.

* * *

T **BC**

 **Please share your thoughts :) I know we're not much closer to the truth but hey, I've decided to flesh out some of the background stories**.


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